


love is the only thing we can carry with us

by ahtohallan_calling



Series: litotwccwu [1]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, No Magic AU, Slow Burn, also why does this family keep so many secrets, honestly kind of everything, kristoff doesn't know what he's supposed to do with this girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 55,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21633142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahtohallan_calling/pseuds/ahtohallan_calling
Summary: After falling ill as a child and never fully recovering, Anna of Arendelle has been kept hidden away from the world-- and the truth about the severity of her illness has always been kept from her. After she falls ill again just a few months shy of her wedding, she’s taken up into the fresh air of the surrounding mountains as a last-ditch effort to help her regain her full strength. It's Kristoff's job to take care of her-- and keep the secret.As each of them struggles with the challenges of their situation, an unexpected complication suddenly arises: they just might be falling in love.
Relationships: Anna & Elsa (Disney), Anna & Hans (Disney), Anna & Olaf (Disney), Anna/Kristoff (Disney), Elsa & Kristoff (Disney), Kristoff & Sven (Disney: Frozen)
Series: litotwccwu [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582414
Comments: 446
Kudos: 297





	1. prologue

It had only been two days, and already he hated the little red-haired girl.

It was hard enough getting Grandpapa’s attention with all the other kids around-- kids who, unlike Kristoff, were really related to him, not just orphans who got lucky enough to be taken in by a widow who had no children of her own. It certainly wasn’t for lack of effort; Kristoff always made sure to work the hardest, to help out the most, hoping it would earn him a pat on the back and a proud smile.

But now, with this new girl taking up all of his time,  _ nobody  _ got to see Grandpapa any more, not even the adults. Well, except for Mama; she’d been running in and out of that stupid cottage on the hill day and night, carrying piles of linens and blankets and bottles and vials and soup and a million other things, leaving Kristoff to eat dinner by himself more than once. He'd helped her with the first load and caught a glimpse of the girl as she was carried in, still asleep after the long journey from the city below. She definitely hadn't looked special enough to be worth all this fuss.

At least there was still Sven to talk to. Even if he couldn’t really talk back.

Kristoff huffed as he brushed down the reindeer. “It’s not fair,” he said grumpily. “I need them, too.”

He never would have dreamed of voicing the sentiment to Grandpapa or Mama, no matter how much he loved them. He knew they needed him to be strong, no matter what. They were always so proud of him when he was tough, like the time he had climbed the big oak tree in the center of the village because someone’s cat had gotten stuck up there. He had lost his balance after helping the cat get to a low enough branch that it could jump down on its own and earned a broken arm for his troubles. But he didn’t even cry, not even a little. Well, not in front of the grown-ups, anyway. Only Sven knew about that.

And only Sven could know about this. 

He stood for a few minutes, scratching the reindeer behind his ears as he munched on his hay. “You’re good at keeping secrets, buddy,” he said softly, and Sven looked up. Kristoff grinned. No matter what other people might say, he knew the reindeer could always understand him.

“Kristoff! Supper’s on the table!”

He bolted out of the stable. He hadn’t even heard Mama come home. It had been two days since she’d been home to eat with him instead of just leaving him a sandwich and instructions for the night’s chores. He sure wasn’t going to waste time now pouting like a baby.

* * *

Sometimes Kristoff wondered why that girl was up in the village, anyway. He knew she had a family, and that they were rich; they would come a few times a week to check on her, and there were always at least a few servants on hand. It seemed like a waste of time, really, to send her all the way up here and then keep going back and forth. If they wanted her, they should just keep her, and let him have his family back.

He’d been watching them from his favorite hiding spot-- well, one of them, anyway-- as they arrived for a particularly brief visit. It was just the man and the woman this time, no servants or even the other little girl. They hadn’t even gone inside, just handed over a box to Mama when she’d opened the door. Kristoff had craned his neck, trying to get a peek at what it might be. He heard Mama call for the little girl-- Anna was her name, as he’d learned just a few days ago. But she didn’t come down. The man and woman waited a little longer on the porch, shoulders drooping with each passing minute, before finally giving up and climbing back on their horses.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kristoff noticed a curtain twitching in the lone window that probably belonged to an attic room. He crept closer, eyes darting around to make sure no one saw him as the last bit of sunlight faded into the evening darkness. He was rewarded by a glimpse of the girl; just a sliver, really, as she pulled the curtain aside just enough to peek out and watch the man and woman retreat down the hill.

He got a little closer, daring to hide behind a tree in the yard. His heart was pounding; this was the closest he’d ever gotten to the house. If Mama or Grandpapa knew…

But he was distracted from his fear by the sound of the window hesitantly creaking open. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound. Peering up, he saw the little girl lean over the ledge, just a little...and realized she was crying. Hard.

_ What does she have to cry about?  _ he thought irritably.  _ She gets to live on the hill and have everyone spend time with her all day. She has her family  _ and _ mine looking out for her. _

Still…

He couldn’t believe he was about to do this. He was definitely going to regret it later, especially if he got caught. Grandpapa would be mad enough at him to give him a lecture about rules, and then Mama would give him that disapproving frown, and then he’d hide out in the barn with Sven and cry where no one could see him.

But that was exactly why he had to do it. He knew what it felt like to cry alone, and no matter how much he hated this little girl, he hated the thought of someone being that sad even more.

Making sure to stay in the shadows in case someone else peeked out one of the windows, he drew closer to the cottage until he was standing directly under the windowsill. He looked up, wondering how to get the girl’s attention without scaring her and making her scream and ruining everything. Then, to his surprise, he realized she was already watching him.

“Hi,” he whispered.

She blinked in response, too stunned to even sniffle.

Kristoff shuffled his feet awkwardly. “You can come play. If you want, I mean.”

“I’m not allowed to leave.”

“I’m not allowed to be here, but that didn’t stop me.”

A hesitant smile crept on her face, and Kristoff smiled weakly in return. “There’s a door in the back. I don’t think they ever lock it. If you’re  _ really _ quiet--”

She was already gone. Heart pounding once more, Kristoff skirted around the perimeter of the cottage and into the backyard. He didn’t have to wait long; only moments after he stepped up to the back door it swung open.

It was hard to believe such a fuss was being made over one little girl, especially this one. She was short, and kind of scrawny, and really pale, paler than anyone he’d ever seen. But her eyes were still bright, even though there were shadows under them.

“Wh-what do you want to play?” Kristoff whispered, suddenly shy. He’d spent so much time thinking about this girl, being angry at her, wondering about who she really was, that it was hard to believe she was really standing in front of him, a human being, just like he was.

“Tag!” she said happily, tapping him on the shoulder before bolting past him and into the yard.

“Hey! No fair!”

He chased her in circles and figure-eights around the yard, both of them trying to hold in their laughter, but he couldn’t help but cheer just a little when he finally managed to tap her left arm. “You’re it!”

She started to say something in return, but a sudden burst of coughing overtook her. She cupped her hands to her mouth, shoulders shaking with the force of it, and Kristoff’s eyes widened. She noticed and started trying to talk again, even before she caught her breath.

“Don’t go-- I’m okay--”

He shook his head. “I-- I won’t.”

After a few more moments, the fit subsided, and the girl’s shoulders drooped. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the game.”

“It’s okay. We can just sit here if you want. Unless you want to go back in--”

“No  _ way _ ,” she said determinedly as she plopped onto the grass, arms stubbornly crossed over her chest.

He sat down beside her, drawing his knees up to his chest. “Um, so what’s your name, anyway?” He had to at least pretend he hadn't already been snooping around more than once. 

“Anna. Who are you?”

“I’m Kristoff.”

She nodded, the gesture looking surprisingly formal. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“I don’t know. But I hear ladies say it sometimes.”

Kristoff couldn’t help but giggle, and after a moment, Anna joined him.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked.

“My mom and grandpa, they’re the ones taking care of you. I followed them up here to see what was going on.”

She brightened a little. “They’re really nice. Your mom makes good cookies.”

“Yeah, I-- I know.”

He looked away from her, tearing fistfuls of grass out of the dirt. There was an uncomfortable silence as he remembered that he didn’t actually like this girl. 

“Thanks for sharing them,” she said, her voice small.

Kristoff didn’t look up. “You’re welcome, I guess. But it wasn’t my idea.”

Before Anna could respond, the door banged open, and he heard a loud gasp. “Kristoff! Anna! What on  _ earth _ are you doing out here? Young lady, get back in,  _ now _ !”

Anna scrambled up and inside without even saying goodbye. Still standing in the doorway, Mama glared at Kristoff. He stood up, bracing himself for a lecture. No point in running home; might as well get it over with.

But Mama didn’t yell. Instead she closed the door behind her and stepped out to him, cupping his face in her hands-- hands that were, to his surprise, trembling.

“Baby, go home. And don’t come back here, not for any reason, okay? Not unless-- unless you start feeling sick, too.”

“What do you mean,  _ sick too _ ?”

Mama pulled him in for a tight hug. Sometimes he liked to pretend he was too old for that kind of stuff, but after she’d been gone so much...well, he didn’t really mind. “Kristoff, Anna is sick. Really, really sick. She’s getting better now, but...I have to help Grandpapa take care of her, okay? She needs us.”

“Why can’t her own family take care of her?” he asked stubbornly.

“They-- they just can’t.”

“But--”

“And besides,” she said, cutting him off, “your Grandpapa can help sick people better than anyone else I know. So she’s safer here with us. But if you got sick like that, too…”

Her voice trailed off, and she hugged Kristoff a little tighter. He understood. He was eight now, practically a grown-up.

“I understand. I won’t come back here.”

And he didn’t, not for the rest of the long summer, not even when Mama came in one evening and said that Anna was going home the next day, so he could go say goodbye if he wanted, as long as he didn't get too close. Instead, he spent the whole day in the barn with Sven, teaching him tricks.

For a little while afterward, he wondered about the little girl, about where she was really from, what her life was like now that she wasn’t in the mountains anymore. But there was no use in wondering, he realized, because he wasn’t ever going to see her again. Before the first snow fell, he had already forgotten about her, and the way she had laughed while they played tag together, and the way she had looked at him like he was the first ray of hope she’d seen in a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, and welcome to the first ambitious fic I've started since my cringey Sweeney Todd phase in middle school. Let's see how this goes.
> 
> As I'm guessing you've figured out, in this AU, there's no magic or fantastical elements; instead of having a frozen head, Anna is dealing with a childhood illness that she never fully recovers from.
> 
> Let's just say part of my inspiration (and the title) comes from that part of Little Women that makes me cry even though I hate that movie. Enjoy ;)


	2. introductions

“With all due respect, I was under the impression that it would be  _ you _ who was personally attending to my sister, Mr…”

“You can call me Grandpapa. All the children do.”

Dark eyes met steely blue, neither willing to back down from the veiled insults they’d just thrown down like gauntlets. Down in the valley, on the banks of the fjord, Queen Elsa of Arendelle went unchallenged in all regards. But here in the mountains, no one dared question Grandpapa, especially not if they needed something from him. But Kristoff had better things to do today than watch a pissing contest.

He cleared his throat. “He’ll be the one taking care of the important things. But for the day to day, I’ll be around. Mostly the groundskeeping, but I can fetch what she needs, keep the place tidy.”

The queen didn’t even bother to look at him. “And if there is a crisis? What, pray tell, will you do then? Dust the cabinets?”

He crossed his arms. “My mother and grandfather have trained me. Your sister won’t be the first person I’ve nursed back to health.”

“She’s not a common peasant. She must have the highest level of care.”

“And a  _ peasant _ doesn’t deserve the same treatment?” Grandpapa interjected, eyes flashing.

The queen sighed. “Forgive me. I misspoke.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. For most other people, this conversation would have been enough. They would have been thrown unceremoniously out the door for daring to disrespect Grandpapa and his knowledge of the healing arts, both ancient and modern. But most other people didn’t offer a veritable pile of gold, sent on a monthly basis, in exchange for his services. Gold that could go a long way to taking care of the extended family, to revitalizing the village, to supporting Grandpapa when he got too elderly to work at all. 

Kristoff forced himself to remember this fact as he spoke, keeping his voice neutral. “Your majesty, you said you had brought her here once before. We’ll take care of her just like we did then.”

At least, he was pretty sure they had taken good care of her back then. Over the years so many people had come and gone from their little mountain village in search of the revitalization the clear air offered-- and the services his family offered when that wouldn’t suffice-- but he  _ definitely _ would have remembered a princess staying here.

“Yes, we did. But I believe a woman was here then, one my sister spoke very highly of. Why is she no longer available?”

“That would be my mother. And that would be because she’s dead,” Kristoff responded bluntly.

“Ah-- my apologies. I have suffered the same loss, as I’m sure you know,” the queen said awkwardly.

She turned away from both of them then, facing the window as she fiddled with one of her turquoise gloves. She really did live up to her reputation-- serious, more than a little terrifying, and completely ice-cold, even as she talked about her own sister’s illness. Kristoff studied her from behind, wondering if this sister had the same ice blonde hair and ramrod-straight posture.

Without turning back, the queen said, “It’s her heart. She had a fever as a child that spiraled out of control until she came here. She recovered, but not fully. Her heart was permanently weakened. We kept her safe back at home as best we could, but this past winter…”

She trailed off briefly, choosing her next words carefully. “Despite our best efforts, she fell ill again. It’s imperative she returns to full health as soon as possible.”

Grandpapa cut in then. “Full recovery takes time and patience. You can’t rush these things, especially when the heart is--”

“She’s getting married before the year is out. To cement Arendelle’s alliance with the Southern Isles. She  _ must _ recover. Fully.”

“But is she not worried about rushing so when she’s just had another brush with death?” Grandpapa demanded.

Queen Elsa was silent for so long Kristoff was starting to wonder if somehow she hadn’t heard the question. Then, finally, she turned back from the window to level her steely gaze at them both.

“My sister has never known the true extent of her...condition. She was young when she first fell ill, too young to understand why she was sent here. She was raised under the impression that she has always been treated with such care simply because of her royal heritage. To her, this latest bout was the first time she's been seriously ill, but nothing to worry over. She has no idea that if it were to happen again...” 

She turned her gaze to look directly at Kristoff. “She must never, under any circumstances, find out the truth.”

“Why keep it a secret?” he asked, trying to make sense of it all. “Shouldn’t she know?”

“Because the shock of it alone might be enough to kill her,” came the cool reply. “And that is something the kingdom of Arendelle cannot risk.”

He could come up with no reply.

* * *

And that was how, a week later, he found himself standing at the entrance of the cottage on the hill, wearing the closest thing to nice clothes he owned. He’d been here hundreds of times before; he came once a week to tend the garden, and once a month he dusted what parts of the interior weren’t draped in thick white swathes of cloth.

He almost didn’t recognize the place once all the furniture was uncovered for the first time in years. At a glance, the whole place was unassuming, even plain, but upon closer look you could see that everything was of fine quality, right down to the silverware--  _ real _ silver, not just tin. A house full of things no one in the village could ever afford, left here to rot until the royal family decided to pop in once again. It was almost enough to make Kristoff change his mind, tell Queen Elsa and her sister to just go and--

He heard hooves clopping on the cobblestone and knew it was too late; she was here. He pushed his sleeves up, then back down, then up again, in a futile effort to try and make himself look at least a little bit more presentable to royalty. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a bright voice suddenly called out to him. “Hello! You must be the groundskeeper!”

_ Good job, Kristoff _ , he thought irritably.  _ So much for being professional. Already losing focus before she’s even really here. _

He bowed stiffly as her carriage pulled up in front of the cottage. “My lady. Welcome.”

“You can call me Anna,” she said cheerily, and a memory suddenly came racing back to him, of a night spent out in the summer grass, of someone crying in the distance--

_ Focus, Kristoff _ .

“Lady Anna, then,” he said, stepping up to the carriage and offering a hand to help her down. 

If Queen Elsa was winter, Princess Anna was summer; sparkling blue eyes, wavy copper hair, a smattering of freckles across cheeks that he noted were shockingly gaunt for someone her age. She was smaller than the queen, too; once she stood in front of him, the top of her head barely came up to his shoulder. That didn’t seem to faze her; she smiled brightly up at him. 

“I’m glad I won’t be here all alone. Elsa said it would be good for me to get away from everyone for a while so I can hurry up and get better. She’s right, I guess, and some rest does sound lovely, but still-- I can’t  _ stand _ being bored. I don’t think anyone can, really. What about you? Are you always up here alone? Is it boring?”

He blinked. “Um--”

“Oh! Sorry, pardon my manners. I’m Anna, of-- oh, well, you already know about me, obviously. I’ve just told you to call me Anna, haven’t I? But what’s your name?”

“Kristoff-- I mean, Mr. Bjorgman,” he added hastily. It was more mannerly to use his last name, wasn’t it? Oh, god, he was out of his depth.

“I like Kristoff better. Unless you don’t. In which case I’ll call you Mr. Bjorgman, or anything else you like--”

“Mr. Bjorgman, please,” he said stiffly, and she fell quiet, biting her bottom lip as she gazed up at him, suddenly shy. 

“My apologies, Mr. Bjorgman,” she said softly. “Would you mind escorting me to my room?”

He nodded, hefting her trunk off the back of the carriage with ease before nodding at the driver, who had already piled the rest of his cargo on the stone pathway and seemed more than happy to make a quick exit from the scene. Probably hoping to make it back to the city before dark. Kristoff had only been down once or twice and never much cared for it, but he suddenly found himself wishing desperately that he was the one driving the carriage as far away from here as possible.

Too late now. The carriage was already halfway down the hill, and Anna was looking at him expectantly. “Right this way, my lady.”


	3. curtains

It was the curtains that brought her back.

Homespun fabric, dyed blue, and heavy enough to block out every drop of light. They had been an almost pleasant shade of steel blue when she had stayed here as a child, but now, faded with sun and age, they were closer to gray than anything else. She ran her fingers around the rough edges of the cloth like she had when she was a child, fascinated by one of the few things in her life that wasn’t smoothed over into a silky, perfect finish, free of any snags that could cause even a moment of discomfort. Most of the furniture that had been here back then-- that was still there now-- had come with her from Arendelle, but these had clearly come from the village. Maybe even from the same people who had watched her back then.

She closed her eyes, willing her memory to bring their names to the forefront of her mind. She felt guilty sometimes that she had forgotten so quickly after leaving here, but it couldn’t be helped, not really; not when she had tried so hard to forget every miserable minute of the time she’d spent in this cottage. 

They had tried, of course, to keep her entertained, but that was hard when you were a little girl sent away without even a real explanation as to why. And her parents had always been so protective, so determined that she never even come close to harm’s way-- well, she still didn’t understand why they had decided to send her here at all, since that meant letting her out of their sight for so long that sometimes she had wondered if they’d ever bother coming back. 

But she remembered the way the old man would sit and read her stories on the nights when no matter how hard she cried, she still couldn’t fall asleep; the way the woman would sit and comb her hair with such care each night before plaiting it into two perfectly even braids. Idly, she tugged at the end of one of her braids now, a faint smile on the corner of her lips; that was one more thing to thank them for. Before the woman-- what  _ was  _ her name?-- had taught her to braid hair, Anna had only ever worn pigtails. Now the braids were a ritual for her, a way to center and calm herself no matter the circumstances. Most days, she only had to do it in the morning as she got ready.

Today, she’d braided and rebraided her hair five times and would have done it a sixth if Elsa hadn’t called to let her know the carriage was ready.

But there had been one other person there, one she remembered so vividly sometimes she thought he had been a figment of her imagination; how could she recall one person she’d known for all of half an hour so clearly it was like he was standing right in front of her? She had half a mind to go straight back outside to the village in search of him; surely someone around here would know who he was and could lead her to him. She owed him-- well, she felt like she owed him quite a lot, but a “thank you” would suffice for now.

If only she could remember his name. It had been thirteen years, so she knew that of course by now he’d be a full-grown man, but she had a feeling she would recognize him the second she laid eyes on him. Still, it wasn’t as if she could just go into town and knock on every door, demanding all the young men come out and let her look at them. Besides, there was every chance that he’d left town, maybe moved into the city or into another kingdom entirely; maybe he wouldn’t remember her at all, and then she’d just be embarrassed; maybe he really  _ was _ just an imaginary friend she’d conjured up so she didn’t feel so utterly alone.

In a fit of frustration, she yanked the curtains to the side, so hard that the curtain rod came crashing down. Light poured in the window as she pressed her nose to the glass, staring out at the achingly familiar view, half expecting to see him standing there like he had so many years ago, waiting for her to notice him and say hello.

But no one was there. She was alone-- at least, she was alone until she heard the pounding of boots on the stairs and turned to see Kristoff--  _ Mr. Bjorgman _ , she reminded herself-- standing in the doorway, eyes wide. “Is everything alright? I heard…”

He glanced down at the curtains, piled in an unceremonious lump on the floor, and Anna felt a flush rise to stain her cheeks. “Sorry. It was an accident.”

It was partially true, at least; she’d dreamed of ripping those curtains down for years. The accident was doing it loudly enough that he could hear.

Mr. Bjorgman stared at her for a long moment, and she forced herself to hold his gaze, even as she felt the blush spread to the tips of her ears. His eyes were a warm shade of brown, she noticed, the color reminding her of a log in the center of fire burning low in the depths of night. There was something familiar about those eyes, almost as if-- 

“It’s alright,” he said finally, interrupting her train of thought. “I never liked that color much, either.”

Now it was Anna’s turn to be caught off guard. “I-- I beg pardon?”

“Next time you want me to change something, just ask.”

With that, he turned and thumped back down the stairs to finish carrying in her things. A pang of guilt struck her; a part of her had hoped that, even though she was supposed to be here resting, maybe it would be a chance to prove to her sister and everyone else in the castle that she could take care of herself. And here she was, on her very first day, already letting someone else do all of the hard work while she ran around tearing apart the decor. 

_ Better late than never _ , she thought, squaring her shoulders and marching down the stairs behind him. 

Mr. Bjorgman was already on his way back up, a crate in his arms. Anna was standing on the second stair from the bottom, and her eyes still weren’t quite level with his. “What do they  _ feed _ you people up here in the mountains to make you this tall?” she blurted out, regretting it even before she’d finished saying it. If he hadn’t been annoyed enough by her calling him Kristoff and blabbering on and tearing down the drapes-- well, this out to do it.

So fast she nearly missed it, a flash of amusement sparked in his eyes, only to immediately be replaced by cool disinterest. “Bread, mostly.”

She couldn’t do it; she looked awkwardly away and found herself staring at the crate in his arms; it was her books, the most precious cargo she had brought with her. “Here, that must be really heavy. Let me hel--”

“I’ve got it.”

“But I--”

He shook his head. “I don’t think you could lift it, anyway.”

She drew herself up to her full height; unimpressive though it was, at least it made her feel better. “I’m stronger than I look, you know.”

“I’m sure you are. But this is still really heavy. Excuse me.”

He took another step towards her, and in spite of herself she turned, back against the wall, leaving just enough room for him to squeeze past. “Well...let me know if you change your mind,” she said lamely as he continued up the stairs.

He didn’t bother to respond. Alright, so he didn’t want help unloading the carriage, but surely there was  _ something _ she could do to help out…aha!

Her gaze came to rest on a squat little teapot sitting on the table and the pitcher of water set beside it. This, at least, was something she was familiar with.

By the time Mr. Bjorgman had come back downstairs-- by the scraping, she knew he’d even unpacked and rearranged everything for her-- there were two steaming cups of tea on the table. He raised one eyebrow.

“I-- I couldn’t find any sugar,” Anna said, suddenly shy. “Or milk or anything. So I hope you don’t mind drinking it black. That is, if you want any. Tea, I mean. I just...figured it might be nice to get to know each other. Since, you know, I’ll be here for a little while. Well, not a  _ little _ while, but that’s beside the point. And since you’ll be here, too. Not as much as me, or at least I think not as much, I-- I don’t really know what you do here. So that’s the kind of thing we could talk about, maybe?”

“You really got the stove going by yourself?”

“Well...yes. I can do  _ some _ things for myself, you know,” she said, feeling slightly offended.

To her surprise, he didn’t argue or make excuses. Instead he walked to the table and pulled out a chair. He started to sit, then pulled back, a hint of red tinging his cheeks. “After you,” he said, gesturing towards it.

“Oh! Oh-- you don’t have to do that, I-- I mean, I’m not in the palace anymore,” she said hurriedly, then realized, to her horror, that with every word his cheeks only grew redder. She cleared her throat and settled in the chair. 

“But thank you very kindly, Mr. Bjorgman. You are the picture of a gentleman,” she said, crossing her ankles and delicately folding her hands in her lap. 

He only nodded in response before sitting down in the chair across from her. She watched him for a moment, waiting for him to speak, to take a sip of his tea, to do  _ anything _ , but instead he simply sat, looking vaguely uncomfortable. 

Anna carefully lifted her cup to her lips, blowing on it as lightly as possible, the way her mother had trained her. Mr. Bjorgman mirrored the motion, and she bit back a smile. It was a relief, in a way, to know that she wasn’t the only one feeling so terribly out of place. She had the distinct feeling that he didn’t get much company from the valley.

“So,” she began, after a ladylike sip of tea, “what exactly are your duties here?”

He set his cup down without drinking. “I’m the groundskeeper. When there’s no people here, anyway.”

“And when there  _ are _ people?”

It took him a surprisingly long time to respond; it seemed like he was trying to decide on the correct answer.  _ How hard can it be _ , Anna wondered,  _ to just tell me why you’re here? _

“Then I’m here for whatever you need,” he said at last. “Not all the time, not a butler or anything. But I’ll be by once a day, maybe twice. In case you need errands run, or if my grandfather wants me to check in on you.”

“Your grandfather?” For a moment she was confused, and then realization dawned on her. “You mean the doctor?”

“For lack of a better term, yes. He’s not as young as he once was, can’t always make it up the hill himself, especially with so many people coming up to the village looking for his help. So...I’m here.”

Anna pondered this. She wasn’t expecting much in the way of medical treatment; really, she was just here to get away from the hustle and bustle of court life and rest up for a bit before her wedding in a few months. Elsa had the idea that the mountain air would do her good, help her finish recovering from the nasty bout of pneumonia she’d had this past winter. Anna knew her sister was probably right; honestly, she did still have a hard time catching her breath more often than not, but really, that was nothing to fuss over. Then again, apparently everything that ever happened to Anna was worth fussing over, so she hadn’t bothered to argue.

While she formulated a response, Mr. Bjorgman finally took a sip of his tea. He was looking at her now, at least, instead of trying to avoid her gaze, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of her. In books, princesses were always beautiful and charming and utterly ladylike, and now here she was probably ruining his opinion of royalty altogether. She wished suddenly that Elsa was here; she was always so calm and composed that she’d know exactly what to do to make this whole thing less horribly awkward.

Anna took a long sip of her tea, trying and failing not to wince when it scalded her tongue. To his credit, Mr. Bjorgman pretended not to notice.

“Well,” she managed to choke out, “I certainly appreciate your help. And it will be nice to have someone around to keep me company. Unless you don’t want to do that,” she finished hastily. “I just mean-- well, if you’re here anyway, we might as well talk.”

He nodded slowly. “Might as well.”

_ Oh, god _ , Anna thought gloomily,  _ he hates me already. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god how do old fashioned stoves work


	4. a trip into town

_ She must hate me, _ Kristoff thought, wincing as he closed the door behind him. The conversation had stuttered to a halt, no thanks to him. He’d never been good at talking to people, especially strangers; he’d always avoided that side of things growing up, preferring to run errands or do chores behind the scenes while his mother and grandfather did the actual caretaking. But after his mother had passed away, and Grandpapa had needed a new full-time helper, he’d been forced to at least start trying to make conversation with people in their care.

_ Trying _ , of course, didn’t always mean succeeding. 

It didn’t help that he had a nagging feeling that maybe he actually  _ had _ met this girl before. When he had come running and found her standing over that pile of ragged old curtains, nose pressed to the window like she was looking for something-- or someone-- well. He’d wanted to ask her, there and then, what she remembered of her first visit to the mountains. Because seeing her stand there, seeing that look in her eye, like an animal caught in a trap…

_ And instead _ , he internally berated himself,  _ you said something stupid about the drapes _ .

And then he’d stayed up there for far longer than he needed to, remaking the bed he’d just gotten ready that morning, arranging her trunks, straightening the furniture, all in an attempt to put off making further conversation with her just a little bit longer. It wasn’t that she annoyed him, though he had a feeling that was what she suspected; it was that he couldn’t stop racking his brain to figure out if he  _ knew _ her or not, and that made coming up with something worth saying even harder than usual.

The royal family had owned this cottage for years, but he hadn’t remembered them using it in ages, at least not for anything more than an occasional quick weekend away for the king and queen, but even that had been years ago. At first, he’d dismissed the thought that maybe he’d met Anna before, thinking he would remember a princess without much effort. But if she had come when she was very young, back when he was too busy adjusting to life with his adoptive family to think of much besides proving he was worth being kept around, when he’d spent every waking moment trying to prove he could be brave and strong and useful and every sleeping moment trapped in nightmares where it still wasn’t enough…

Kristoff shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind; just remembering those days opened a cold, yawning pit in his stomach. More than likely, he was just imagining things; Anna had probably come and gone long before he first arrived. But as he made his way back down the hill, his eyes lighted on the massive oak tree in the front yard. Feeling drawn to it somehow, like he had been pulled into a dream without quite realizing it, he turned and walked towards it, pressing his hands against the rough bark. It was taller now, and so was he, but somehow standing here he felt very small again, in more ways than one. 

Hidden by the branches, he dared to look up at the house.

She was there in the window, looking out at something in the distance, sunlight glinting on the copper of her hair, and suddenly the memories rose in him as if a hidden well in his heart had just been struck. The little girl he had hated so much, the one with the red hair and so many visitors. He hadn’t understood then why she was so sad, why she had been kept inside for so long. And now that he did--

Kristoff turned away and headed down the hill, shoving his hands in his pockets. No point on dwelling on things he couldn’t do anything about. And besides-- so what if he remembered her? That didn’t mean she remembered  _ him _ . 

The whole way back to his cabin, he thought he could hear the soft sound of weeping carried by the breeze.

* * *

The next morning, he found himself trying not to nod off into his bowl of oatmeal while his grandfather gave him very firm instructions for Anna’s care.

“You didn’t have to come over,” he said through a yawn. “I promise, I know what I’m doing. You guys taught me well enough.”

His grandfather’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “You’ve never cared for a princess before.”

“Well, she’s still a person, isn’t she?”

“She’s more than that, and you and I both know it,” Grandpapa said sternly. 

Kristoff bit back a response. He didn’t know why his grandfather’s attitude about Anna bothered him so much; after all, she was royalty, the heir to the throne, and if her heart were to give out before Elsa or she had married, it could spell tragedy for Arendelle.

Grandpapa, sensing his surrender, resumed his list of instructions. “She needs sunlight and fresh air, but not too much exercise. She’s still recovering from pneumonia, so there’s already a heavy strain on her lungs and her heart, and as the queen said, her heart has always been weak. Any further exertion--”

“I know, I know,” Kristoff said, standing up suddenly and shoving his chair back into place. He didn’t know why he couldn’t bear the thought of his grandfather finishing that sentence; it was just a reality, after all, that even once this girl finished recovering from pneumonia, eventually, some other sickness or accident or shock to her system would come and that would be that. It happened to everybody; it had happened to Kristoff’s mother; it just would probably happen a little sooner than normal for Anna. It would happen to him someday, and the world would move on just fine.

His grandfather was still sitting there, eyebrows raised. “Are you sure you can do this?”

Kristoff gritted his teeth. “Do her shopping. Take notes of her breathing, her coloring, her appetite. Update you with any change. Update the queen once a week. Don’t let her know that  _ really  _ getting better will never actually happen. Am I forgetting anything?”

He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. Before his grandfather could respond, Kristoff was already out the door. Part of him felt guilty for being so rude, and a deeper part wondered if his grandfather ever regretted letting his daughter take him in in the first place. But he shoved those thoughts aside and made his way to the small stable, digging a carrot out of his pocket for Sven. 

“You see how messed this up is, right, buddy?” he asked the reindeer, scratching behind his antlers. “They don’t care enough about her to tell her the truth, so they shove her off on me?”

The only response was a grunt. Kristoff sighed. That wasn’t that part that was bothering him, not really. But if he let himself go down that path, then he  _ really _ wouldn’t be able to get through this without ruining everything.  _ Don’t question it _ , he reminded himself firmly as he finished hitching Sven to his wooden cart and climbed in, snapping the reins and heading off for the cottage on the hill at a clip.  _ Just do what they say and think about how much the Queen is paying you _ .

It was more than enough to cover what he needed to survive, and beyond that, he didn’t want much, anyway. The rest was all going to his grandfather, then the extended family if they needed it. Maybe that, at least, would make up for his rudeness at breakfast.

He was still brooding when the cart crested the hill, so deep in his thoughts that at first, he didn’t notice the door to the cottage was wide open. It wasn’t until he heard a cheerful, “Good morning, Mr. Bjorgman!” that he snapped out of his reverie.

“Anna?” he called, jumping down from the cart and hurrying towards the door without even unhitching Sven. “Are you alright?”

She emerged with a bright smile, wearing a soft green dress that hung just a little too loosely off her frame. She was halfway through braiding her hair, with only one shoe on. “I wasn’t sure if I should expect you today, so I was going to take a quick walk into town. There’s just a few things I need, and I wanted to see if--”

“You can’t do that,” Kristoff interrupted with a frown.

Her face fell. “Why not?”

“You’re sick. You’ve got-- you’re getting over pneumonia, aren’t you?”

“Well...yes. But really, I feel much better. How long can it last, anyway? I’m sure I’m all better now, so no need to go on babying me. Elsa nearly drove me batty this winter, with all her--”

As she spoke, she tied off her hair and began searching for her second shoe. “Ah-- there you are! Anyway, Mr. Bjorgman, there’s no need to fret. You can go on and do whatever you need to here. It’ll probably be easier when I’m out of your way, anyway, won’t it?”  
He was questioning again whether or not this was really worth it. She had a point; if it really _had_ only been pneumonia, she just might have been able to manage walking into town, provided she went slowly and took lots of breaks. But considering how weak she had already been before falling ill, how much more damage this had probably caused-- she couldn’t risk it. And he couldn’t risk letting her-- but how could he stop her from going without telling her why?

“I was-- well…” he started awkwardly, casting about for a reason. “Well, I figured you would need things. So I was coming to ask about them. Ask what you needed, I mean. And then pick them up for you so you wouldn’t have to bother.”

“Oh, it’s no bother at all! But I wouldn’t mind the company. That is, if  _ you  _ don’t mind company. If you do, then I guess I will just go on and--”

“I don’t mind,” he interrupted quickly, seeing his opportunity. “I still have the wagon hitched. Sven and I can take you down.”

She bit her lip, considering this. “Well...I was looking forward to a walk…”

“A walk is better than a reindeer?”

She brightened at this. “You have a  _ reindeer _ ?”

He stood back from the doorway, letting her peek out into the yard. With a squeal of delight, she ran out, still holding one shoe in her hand, and stopped in front of Sven. She paused to catch her breath, leaning on the corner of the wagon, and Kristoff hurried over. “You alright?”

She nodded, still smiling. “Can I-- can I pet him?”

“Sure.”

She reached out one hand to gently stroke the top of Sven’s head, eyes wide with wonder. When the reindeer snorted and rubbed his nose against her palm, she let out a surprised laugh.

“Here,” Kristoff said, offering her a carrot. She looked confused, and it was his turn to laugh. “Not for you, for him. He’s begging you for a treat.”

She took it then, and held it up to Sven’s muzzle, giggling when he delicately plucked it from her palm. “What a sweetheart,” she cooed. “At least you’re not grumpy, huh? I bet you  _ love _ to make new friends.”

“Trust me, once you get Sven started talking, he won’t stop,” Kristoff deadpanned, and Anna looked up at him, blinking in surprise.

“Did you just make...was that a joke?”

“Keep talking to him, and you’ll find out,” he said, doing his utmost to sound ominous. 

Apparently, it worked, because Anna gave Sven a sidelong glance before looking back at Kristoff. “So...are you ready?”

He nodded and held out an arm to help her clamber into the wagon. He climbed up after her, making sure to maintain a respectable distance from her. “I’ve got a blanket down here if you need it,” he offered; despite the sunny weather, late April in the mountains could still feel chilly, especially for people used to valley life. 

She seemed to debate for a minute--  _ probably doesn’t want to seem weak _ , he thought-- before nodding. He unfolded the blanket he always kept stowed just behind the seat and carefully draped it over her lap, making sure not to actually make contact with her. When he pulled back, she was staring at him, an odd expression on her face, and he looked away, feeling heat creep up his neck.  _ Could have just handed it to her, Bjorgman _ , he thought irritably, before tugging on the reins and directing Sven back down the hill.

For a few minutes, they rode in silence, which suited Kristoff just fine. His eyes kept sliding towards Anna, wondering what she was thinking. It wasn’t hard to grasp the gist of it; she was looking wide-eyed at the rolling green expanse of the mountainside as if it were a feast and she had never tasted anything but gruel. The third time he glanced her way, she caught him and flashed him a starry-eyed smile. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” she said breathlessly.

_ Me neither _ , he thought, surprising even himself. 

When he didn’t respond immediately, she bit her lip again and turned to face forward again; Kristoff mentally kicked himself for messing up the conversation yet again. “Sorry, I was just-- yes. It is beautiful,” he said. “I’m really glad I got to grow up here.”

The smile started to creep back onto her face. “I wish I’d grown up here, too.”

“But you’re a princess. The mountains are beautiful, but what have they got on a castle?”

“ _ Everything _ ,” she breathed, and the way she said it made him feel oddly proud of his home. 

He sat up a little straighter. “It’ll be even better in a couple of weeks when the flowers start blooming.”

She sighed happily. “I’ll have to write Elsa about this. She’ll have to come see it for herself. This is  _ definitely _ happy ever after material.”

She had lost him again. “Happy...what?”

“You know, happy ever after. Like in books? Didn’t you ever think about what you’d want yours to be?”

“Not...really?”

She considered this for a minute. “Maybe it’s just something my sister and I do then. We spent a lot of time cooped up in the library growing up, or listening to our governess tell stories, and after a while we started thinking about how we’d like our own stories to end. So when we read a new story we really liked, or when we saw something really beautiful, we’d add it to our happy ever after. Sometimes just talking about them was even better than reading a book, because it was like a story, just for us. Especially when we--”

She paused suddenly; her hands had been fluttering around for emphasis as she spoke, but now they laid tangled together in her lap. “I’m-- I’m sorry. I know I tend to go on and on about nothing, so please just-- you know, tell me to shut up, or-- or whatever if I start to irritate you. Which I think I’m probably doing now-- so.”

Kristoff shook his head emphatically. “I don’t mind, really. Talk as much as you want.”

“I-- really?”

He nodded. “Like you said, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. Might as well talk.”

“Well-- are you sure? Even if I’m talking about something strange? I think now, after actually explaining it, the happy ever after game is probably really weird, so I’m sorry if that freaked you out, or if you think I’m crazy, which I’m not, which now that I think about it is what a crazy person would say--”

“I don’t think it’s weird. It sounds sort of...nice. I don’t have siblings, so I didn’t do anything like that growing up.”

She brightened. “Well, it’s never too late to start!”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“It’s easy. Just think about what would make you happiest, and what you’d like to do with your life, and who you’d like to spend it with, and there it is! And you can change it, of course, whenever you’d like.”

“What’s yours, then?”

“Well, I’ve had to change it just now, because it will  _ have  _ to include trips to this mountain to see the flowers every chance I get. But in my happy ever after, I fall  _ terribly _ in love with a very handsome prince, and he whisks me away to a palace where there’s chocolate with every meal, and I have six cats and a dog, and a garden of my own.”

Anna peeked up at him from under her lashes. “It is silly, isn’t it? I’ve-- I’ve never told anyone besides Elsa about it. It hasn’t changed much since I was a little girl, really, just the number of animals.”

He shook his head. “Nothing wrong with doing something that makes you happy. Besides, it seems to be working out for you in a way, doesn’t it? Considering you’ll be getting whisked away by a prince after you leave here, right?”

She didn’t answer him. After a few moments, he glanced down and saw she was staring off into the distance, a sudden melancholy in her eyes. “Anna?”

“Hmm? Oh-- I’m alright. Just...got distracted. Anyway, now that I’ve gone and embarrassed myself by spilling my heart’s desires to a near stranger, it’s your turn. What would be in your happy ever after?”

He turned the question over in his mind. What  _ did _ he want his future to look like? He’d never thought too much about it, had always assumed that his future would look much the same as the present: staying in the mountains, helping Grandpapa, taking care of Sven, spending as much time as he could in the woods. Beyond that, he wasn’t even sure what he would want; wasn’t all of that enough?

“Mr. Bjorgman?” 

“You can call me Kristoff,” he said absentmindedly, still pondering her question. “Nobody calls me that. I just thought maybe princesses were supposed to.”

She laughed at that. “Well, maybe, but up here I really don’t feel like a princess at all! So no point in following etiquette, is there? I like it that you call me Anna, anyway, instead of “princess” or “my lady” or something like that. It’s nice to just be me for once.”

Before he could respond, he heard a voice calling, “Kris! I didn’t know you’d be here today!”

_ How did we make it to town already? _ He wondered, blinking in surprise before waving hello to the boy that was already running over to hug Sven around the neck. “Olaf, hey. What are you doing here?”

“Grandpapa sent me for more oatmeal,” came the cheerful response. “But we already have enough. I think he just got tired of me.”

Next to him, Anna snorted in amusement. Olaf looked up at her, excited to have a new person to pester. “Hi! What are you doing here?”

“Just visiting,” she responded. “What are you doing here?”

He laughed. “I live here, silly!”

_ Two peas in a pod _ , Kristoff thought drily as he climbed out of the wagon and held up a hand to help Anna get down. He couldn’t help but notice how small her hand felt in his, how soft her skin was against his callused palm, and how small she looked standing next to the cart; he had forgotten, sitting next to her, just how short she was.

“Well, I’ll be living here for a little while, too,” Anna said brightly. “So you’ll have to show me around. How do you know Kristoff, anyway?”

“Oh, we’re cousins! Kind of, not really, because neither of us have parents so we ended up in the same family.”

“Olaf--” Kristoff began, then stopped. Anna would have found that out eventually, anyway, and he’d long since come to accept that fact of his life. Still, he was grateful she didn’t look at him or Olaf with pity; she just let the boy lead her, still chattering away, to show her the highlights of the small village, leaving Kristoff to tie up the cart and wonder for the millionth time that day just how he had gotten in so far over his head. 


	5. seeds

“It’s a little late in the season for this.”

“A  _ little _ late, or  _ too  _ late?’

Kristoff groaned. “Are you this stubborn with everyone?”

“No, I just save it all up for you.”

He threw up his hands with an exasperated sigh. “Fine. But I’m not making any promises that they’ll grow.”

“Can you promise that they  _ won’t _ ?”

He didn’t even bother to respond, just shook his head, muttering something under his breath about “city people” before stalking off to hitch Sven back up to the wagon.

But she had seen it just before he had turned away: that tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth, that bare beginning of the smile that she was beginning to realize was a dead giveaway that, beneath his grumpy exterior, Kristoff Bjorgman was actually starting to like her.

He had been trying to cover up that fact ever since he had so carefully draped a blanket over her on their very first trip into town together, now nearly two weeks ago. But it was too late; that small act of kindness had revealed the truth to her, and ever since then, she had been determined to get him to show his softer side again. She hadn’t been successful yet, but Anna was nothing if not an optimist.

She followed after him, tickling Sven behind the ears. “How are you today, my darling?” she cooed. “Have you gotten enough carrots?”

“Don’t listen to him. He never thinks he’s had enough,” Kristoff said, and the reindeer snorted in response. 

Anna giggled. “I agree, Sven. He’s full of it.”

Kristoff groaned again, shaking his head. “It’s not fair when you two team up against me,” he complained half-heartedly, holding out a hand to help her clamber up into the wagon. She took it gladly, impressed as always by the way he helped her so gently before swinging himself up with such ease. As he settled into his seat, she couldn’t help but give him a sidelong glance, eyeing the solid muscle of his arms and trying to gauge just how strong he really was. She had a feeling he could lift her with ease, and the thought was oddly satisfying. 

He glanced down at her as they set off down the hill, noticing her gaze. “Need something?”

“I-- uh, I’m just cold,” she said quickly, and he nodded. He reached behind the seat for the blanket with one hand and offered it to her. She took it, trying to hide her disappointment, and draped it around her shoulders. One of these days, he was going to slip and show her his soft side again, and on that day-- well, she didn’t really know what she was going to do, but it would definitely involve a lot of gloating and “I-knew-it”s and maybe, just maybe, an admission that she was starting to like him, too.

* * *

They were back within an hour; normally Anna came up with an endless list of excuses to prolong the time she got to spend out of the cottage, but today she had been so excited to get back that she was nearly bouncing up and down on the seat of the wagon.

“I’m serious, I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” warned Kristoff as he pulled a shovel from the back of his wagon. There was one more hint of his kindheartedness, Anna noted; she had first asked him about planting a few flowers the day before, and he had hemmed and hawed rather than giving a definite answer. 

_ People who don’t want to help you plant a garden definitely don’t bring their own shovels, _ she thought triumphantly, reaching to take it from him. He held it out of her grasp, raising an eyebrow.

“Let me do the digging.”

“I can do it! How hard can it be?” she demanded, reaching towards it again. He responded it by lifting it in the air, too high for her to reach.

“I’m serious. Even if you weren’t sick--”

“I can do it!” she insisted, jumping a little to try and grab it. “You’re just worried I’ll turn out to be a way better shoveler than you.”

He huffed out a laugh. “That’s not even a word.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Prove it.”

“Now you’re trying to distract me!”

“ _ Fine.  _ Here you go, feistypants. Have at it.”

He held out the shovel to her, and she took it gleefully, only to stumble slightly when he let go. Why were shovels so  _ heavy _ ? 

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “You got it?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” she said, planting the tip of the shovel in the ground. How hard could it be?

As it turned out, much harder than she had imagined. After a few moments of struggling to force it deeper into the earth, Anna stamped on the top of the shovel, breathing hard. She succeeded only in knocking it out of position, though to her relief a little dirt came loose with it. Feeling a faint sheen of sweat break out on her forehead, she stuck the shovel back in the earth again, and it wobbled. The teasing glint in Kristoff’s eyes had gone out, replaced by concern.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

She nodded, embarrassed. “The dirt, it’s, uh...harder than I thought it would be,” she said. In truth, she had woken up that morning feeling weaker than she had in days, and the trip into town had sapped most of what energy she had left. She’d thought she could manage digging up a garden plot on the power of  _ I-told-you-so’s _ alone, but it was clear that that had already run out.

Kristoff, to his credit, didn’t tease her, just took the shovel again and easily dug two short troughs in the earth. And Anna  _ definitely _ didn’t notice the way his shoulders flexed underneath the fabric of his shirt as he did so.

He turned back to her. “Right. You want to help plant the seeds? Or are you worried about getting your dress dirty?”

She responded by sticking out her tongue and immediately kneeling down next to the pile of upturned earth, pulling the small bag of seeds out of her satchel. “I just drop them in the hole, right?”

He knelt beside her. “Well, with these, you want to put two or three little seeds close to each other and leave a couple of inches between each set.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Not all of the seeds will sprout, so you put a couple in the same place, then leave space between so there’s room for them to grow.”

“I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“Honestly, me either. But it’s the way I’ve always done it.”

She laughed and carefully poured a few seeds into her hand. “You are the expert, I guess. At least more than I am.”

She planted each seed carefully, Kristoff nodding in approval when she heaped the dirt back on top and patted it into place. “Maybe we’ll make a mountain girl out of you yet,” he teased.

“It is sort of nice to get dirty. Once in a while, at least,” she admitted, examining the dirt under her nails with an exaggerated grimace.

“You’ll have to get used to it if you want this garden to grow. But it’ll be worth it, won’t it? Wasn’t having a garden part of your-- what did you call it? Happy ending?”

“Happy ever after,” she said absentmindedly, before suddenly turning to look at him with narrowed eyes. “You  _ remembered _ that?”

He shrugged, trying just a little  _ too _ hard to seem disinterested. “I did, I guess.”

Anna smirked, feeling very pleased with herself. “You  _ do _ listen to me!”

“Only when there’s nothing better to do.”

She reached over and shoved playfully at his shoulder. “Oh, shut up, Bjorgman. You know you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

“Right, when you go back home and get your prince. That was part of it too, wasn’t it? Your handsome true love?”

She nodded solemnly. “The most important part.”

“So what’s he like?”   
“What do you mean, what’s he like?”

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that question really needs much explaining.”

“Well-- I haven’t actually  _ met _ him yet.”

His jaw dropped. “But you’re getting  _ married! _ ” 

“Yes, and?”

“But you-- you’re going to marry someone you just met _that day_?”  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “I’ll meet him a few weeks in advance. He’s coming to Arendelle in the fall, then the wedding will be in winter.”

“Aren’t you worried? I mean, what if he turns out to be a jerk? Or ugly? Or  _ boring _ ?”

Anna wrinkled her nose. “He won’t!”

“How do you know? Do you even know anything about him?”

“I know he’s a prince from the Southern Isles, and he’s about my age, and he seems very nice in his letters.”

“He  _ seems _ nice, until he shows up here and turns out to be a vampire or something.”

Anna scowled and stood up, brushing her hands off on her skirt. “You seem awfully invested in my love life all of a sudden.”

Kristoff stood up, too. “I’m  _ not _ ,” he said defensively. “I’m just trying to understand it.”

“Well, we’re in an alliance with the Southern Isles. So this is proof of the goodwill between our countries.”

Kristoff shook his head. “But it’s your  _ life _ .”

“And it’s my duty,” she countered. 

“I’m just saying, if I wanted a happy ever after, I wouldn’t be marrying a stranger.”

“It’ll work out. Everything happens for a reason, and it all works out for the best in the end.”

He just stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Anna stood as tall as she could, staring fiercely up at him until he sighed and shook his head.

“Guess it’s none of my business,” he said. “I need to get back home, anyway. My grandfather needed help with...stuff.”

He shouldered the shovel and walked back towards the wagon.  _ Why is this upsetting him? _ Anna wondered, biting her lower lip. Before he could tug on the reins and start off, she called after him, “Kristoff?”

He didn’t even look back. “I’ll be back tomorrow to help you water the flowers. Have a good evening, Anna.”

She stood and watched him go, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Why did this seem to matter so much to him?

And more importantly-- why did what Kristoff thought suddenly matter so much to  _ her _ ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: This is a slowburn. They should probably be even more argumentative.  
> Me to me: MAKE THEM KISS RIGHT NOW


	6. storms

It was already beginning to rain as Kristoff made his way outside to the stable. He hadn’t been planning to go up and check on Anna today; he had just gone the day before with a wagonload of supplies. She had been waiting for him, waving excitedly from the window, but had deflated somewhat when she came downstairs and found him already carrying in her weekly groceries.

“I thought we could go together again,” she had said.

Kristoff couldn’t bring himself to look at her, couldn’t stand to see the disappointment he knew was plain on her face. “Didn’t have time today, but I couldn’t let you go hungry,” he had muttered before turning and leaving before she had time to ask any more questions.

In truth, he had been planning on taking her into town as had become their routine; once a week they would go for what she needed, once a week they would go when she insisted she had run out of something earlier than expected, and when she was able to wheedle him into a third trip, they would simply take the long way to the center of the village so she could feast her eyes on the fields of wildflowers that were beginning to paint the mountainside in riotous shades of violet and blue. 

But that had been before Kristoff’s grandfather had confronted him after visiting Anna himself for a check-up. “You simply cannot continue taking her into town with you,” the older man had insisted sternly. “You heard it from the queen herself: we cannot risk any further damage to Anna’s heart. Any overexertion, any new illness could spell disaster for her and for Arendelle.”

Though Kristoff had simply nodded, his grandfather must have seen the flash of fear in his eyes and softened slightly. “I don’t believe it’s brought any harm to her yet,” he had said kindly. “But you must implore her to be more careful with her health. She doesn’t know how important it is that she spends as much time as possible resting and recuperating. But you do.”

“Why don’t they just  _ tell _ her?”

Sadness seemed to settle on his grandfather’s features. “You heard the queen. She fears what the shock of the news might do to her heart. But I think the greater fear for the queen-- and, I confess, for myself-- is how it might crush her spirit.”

Sven huffed, bumping his nose against Kristoff’s shoulder and startling him from his reverie. “Sorry, buddy,” he said, offering a carrot to the reindeer before climbing up into the saddle. “Got lost in my head, didn’t mean to keep you standing in the rain.”

The rain picked up as he traveled, and Kristoff cursed himself for not even bothering to put on a hat. He knew he would need an excuse to visit Anna, and so he was bringing her one of his favorite books, planning to tell her she could read it to fill the time while she waited for the storm to pass. 

He knew she would appreciate the book but would be much more grateful for the company-- the real reason for his visit; he knew how she hated being stuck up there alone. He’d already taken care of his chores at his own home that morning, knowing he’d likely be in the cottage up on the hill until sunset, listening to Anna chatter away about everything and nothing, teasing her just to see the way her cheeks turned pink beneath her freckles, bickering back and forth with her to cover up the fact that he was starting to grow fond of her.

He knew she suspected it; he’d seen the gleam in her eyes whenever she caught him going out of his way to help her or holding back a smile after one of their silly arguments. He didn’t know why hiding his affection felt so important; after all, what was wrong with becoming friends with her? He’d gotten along well with a few people here and there who’d come to the village for long stays like this in the past, even still wrote a few of them on occasion just to check in. But this was different, somehow, and exploring the reason  _ why _ was going to lead him down a path he couldn’t come back from.

A path that smelled of cinnamon and black tea and whispered  _ look how she smiles when you say her name.  _

Lightning cracked in the distance, followed by a boom of thunder a few moments later, and Sven looked up. Kristoff swore he could see the nervousness in the reindeer’s eyes. “It’s okay, buddy,” he called. “Try and go a little faster, see if we can outpace it, eh?”

He didn’t even need to touch the reins; Sven snorted and faced forward again, speeding up to a fast trot as they began the ascent up the hill. At any other time, he would have allowed himself to relish the feeling of victory-- proof once again that despite what everyone else thought, Sven  _ did _ understand him-- but the rain was lashing against them so hard now that his focus remained solely on keeping Sven on the path.

He steered the reindeer towards the side of the cottage and the ramshackle stable there; it was better than nothing, though he was kicking himself for not getting around to repairing it yet. As he removed the saddle, he heard a cry rising over the rain and bolted back outside, not caring when the saddle splashed into the mud.

“Kristoff!”

_ What the hell happened? _ he thought wildly, sprinting through the mud to the back of the house. His heart tightened in fear when he saw her kneeling in the dirt, hair plastered to her shoulders.

“ _ Jesus _ , Anna, what are you doing out here?” he asked, falling to his knees beside her and grabbing her shoulder. “What’s wrong?” To his horror, he realized she was crying, tears rolling down her face and mixing with the rain.

“The flowers,” she answered through chattering teeth, gesturing at the pitiful little green shoots that were flattened against the earth, some already exposed to their roots. “They’re going to die! What can we do?”

“ _ Damn _ it, Anna,” he swore. “Why did you come out here?”

“We have to save them!”

“We can’t! You have to go inside,  _ now. _ ”

Her tears had turned to full-blown sobs, her shoulders shaking. Desperate to shield her from the rain, he tore off his jacket, holding it over her head.  _ Why _ was she only wearing a nightgown? “Anna, come on.  _ Please _ .”

“But they’ll die!”

He clenched his teeth, fighting to keep the truth from spilling out.  _ You could die, too _ .

Instead, he shook his head fiercely. “I-- I’ll come back out, see if I can replant them, build a barrier, or--”

“No,” she said, pulling away from him and frantically digging in the mud, trying to build a dam to keep the seedlings from being washed down the hill. “I can do this!”

“Anna--”

“They’re mine, it’s my job to take care of them!”

“And it’s my job to take care of you!” Kristoff shouted over a clap of thunder.

She sagged against him then, covering her face in her hands as she wept. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her upright with him while still doing his utmost to shield her from the storm. She leaned against him, clinging to him as they made their way inside. 

As soon as they were in, Kristoff pulled away from her, the fear he had felt turning to anger. "What were you  _ thinking _ , Anna? You can't just--"

"Don't you dare say it," she retorted, fists clenched. "I'm so  _ fucking _ tired of hearing 'Anna can't do this, Anna can't do that'. Even before this winter, that's all I've ever heard. I can take care of  _ myself,  _ Kristoff Bjorgman."

She stood tearstained before him, quivering with rage and cold, flaming red hair dripping on the floor, waiting for him to argue, to coddle, to plead.

He didn't. Instead, he simply nodded and said, "You're right."

Her fists unclenched, and she took a deep breath. "I'm-- I'm glad you see things my way," she said, still staring up at him with those unearthly blue eyes. "I'm going upstairs now to change."

Kristoff nodded again. "The fire looks a bit low. I'll put more kindling on if you'd like."

She nodded imperiously and headed up the stairs, every inch a princess even in a soaking wet nightgown. It was the side of her he always forgot about; it was all too easy to pretend she was just a normal girl, here just for a vacation, not going home to marry a stranger in a few months just because he was a prince and not--

_ Not going down that path, _ Kristoff told himself firmly. He knelt down by the fireplace, tossing a log on and prodding a little too forcefully at the flames until they roared back to life. He held his hands to it for a minute, savoring the warmth, before stepping back outside to brave the storm and check on Sven.

To his relief, the reindeer looked to be warm and dry. Kristoff scratched him behind the ears, offering him a carrot. "Sorry to run off like that, buddy. It was kind of an emergency."

Sven crunched happily on his treat in response, and Kristoff managed to smile. "Thanks for understanding."

When he came back into the cottage, Anna was downstairs in front of the fire, wrapped in a blanket with her hair fanned out over her shoulders to dry. She turned to him, eyes puffy and red, though she was no longer crying. "How can you lecture me about going out in the rain and then run right back out there yourself?" she demanded.

"If you'll recall, I'm not the one who just had pneumonia."

"Yeah, but you  _ will _ if you keep doing stupid stuff like this."

He raised an eyebrow, and a blush flamed in her cheeks as she realized the irony of what she'd just said. "I-- well-- it's different," she insisted. "I was trying to do something important."

"So was I. I had to check on Sven."

She broke his gaze, looking defeated. Before today, he probably would have teased her about letting him win, laughed when she rolled her eyes and playfully shoved his shoulder. 

Instead, he sat beside her on the floor, holding out a hand. She looked at it, confused. "Truce?" he offered, watching as a small smile crept onto her face.

"Truce," she said, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "But you still need to get out of those wet clothes."

She had a point; his hair was still dripping onto the floor. He stood and pulled off his jacket, then fumbled with his sweater, trying not to blush when it pulled up the shirt underneath with it. At least that was still dry enough to wear. He tugged the shirt back down as Anna watched him, wearing that imperious gaze again, and she nodded in approval when he hung the offending garments over the back of a chair. 

“You can keep your pants on, but come sit with me by the fire. Here, you can have my blanket.”

He shook his head; he knew it was making her feel better to get the chance to be the caretaker for once, but she still looked a little too pale and  _ definitely _ too shivery to allow that. “You need it, Anna. Your hair’s still sopping wet.”

“Fine, then we’ll share,” she said with an irritated huff, pulling the blanket from around her shoulders and holding it up. “Sit down so I can put it over both of us.”

He complied, doing his best to keep a careful distance from her. Anna had no such qualms and scooted close enough that her knee brushed against his before draping the blanket carefully over their laps. “There,” she said, satisfied. “That should do it.”

For several minutes they sat together in silence, neither acknowledging their proximity. Anna began combing through her hair with her fingers, braiding it and unbraiding it without really paying attention to what she was doing. In the firelight, it glimmered a deep, burnished copper, in stark contrast to the sapphire blue of her eyes.

_ Damn it, Bjorgman, stop comparing her to jewelry,  _ he thought, averting his eyes and trying to ignore the way his heart was suddenly beating faster for no good reason.  _ It’s not like she’ll ever-- _

“Kristoff?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Don’t be. You had a right to be upset. I'm sorry about your flowers.”

He let himself look at her again. She was biting her lip, the way she did when she felt shy around him. He realized suddenly that she hadn’t done it for a while.  _ When did we stop being strangers to one another _ ? he wondered.  _ Was it when I remembered you? Do you remember me yet, Anna?  _

_ Will you forget me again this time? _

He nudged his knee against hers. “I can get you some new seeds.”

“Can I come with you?”

He hesitated, and almost immediately her shoulders drooped in disappointment. “Anna, it’s not that I don’t want you to come with me, it’s--”

“That you don’t think I can do it.”

“Not that,” he said quickly, “more that I don’t want you to get sick again. And my grandfather thinks you will if you do too much too fast.”

“What do  _ you _ think?”

“I’m not a doctor, Anna,” he hedged. “Or a...whatever my grandfather is exactly. I can’t say.”

She mulled over this for a moment. “I think people are more cautious around me just because I’m a princess, and without me there’s no backup.”

“What do you mean, backup?”

“Elsa’s the heir, I’m the spare,” she said without a trace of self-pity. “So they treat me with kid gloves. Her, too, but Elsa’s always been pretty cautious on her own.”

Anna's eyes were far away as she stared into the fire. Unsure of what else to do or say, Kristoff put his arm around her shoulders. To his surprise, Anna leaned against him.

"I feel like I've spent my whole life trapped indoors," she continued, her voice soft. "With everyone just telling me what to do all the time, saying it's not safe to go out or do this or try that, and now-- now I'm supposed to get married and move to some new kingdom, and I don't know anything about the world out there. I don't even know anything about love. All I know is what I read in books."

"Maybe I can help you out there," Kristoff said, hoping to cheer her up a little. "You know, I've been told I'm somewhat of a love expert."

She laughed, and something inside his chest untangled at the sound of it. "By who? Sven?"

"...maybe."

"Well, what's your expert advice, then?"

He pondered for a minute. "Hmm...brush your teeth before kissing."

She laughed again and leaned her head against his shoulder. Kristoff swallowed hard.

"I'm glad you're here this time around," she said with a contented sigh. 

"This time?" 

"I got sent here once when I was little. I'd had something-- some fever or another-- and they sent me up here so I wouldn't get Elsa sick, too. It was miserable. I've never been so lonely as I was then, except for…" 

Kristoff's heart was pounding so hard he was certain she could hear it. He held perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe.

"There was one night-- it had been ages since my parents had come to visit. And then they were there with a present as if that would make up for all of it, and I was so mad I wouldn't even come downstairs. I watched from the window until they left, and I just-- I felt so lonely in that moment, like I'd be trapped in that room forever. And then I looked down, and there he was."

_ This isn't happening, there's no way-- _

"Just-- this boy, only a little older than me. And he helped me sneak out and we played and just...it meant so much to me to get a chance, just for a little bit, to just be a normal kid. And then we got caught, and I never saw him again, but I always wondered what happened to him. Sometimes I thought I made him up, that he was just some imaginary friend. But I always wondered if I’d see him again, if I’d get a chance to thank him and ask him why he did it.”

He couldn’t breathe. Anna looked up at him, brows knitting together in worry. “Kristoff?”

“You were crying,” he said, his voice ragged. “You were crying, and you were scared, and you were alone. And I had to do something.”

For a moment, she just looked at him, confused, and then realization dawned in her eyes, those eyes he couldn’t stop thinking about every time he closed the cottage door and went home only to dream about them too.

“Kristoff, I--”

“I need to go home,” he said, shoving the blanket off his lap and standing up. A flash of hurt crossed her eyes, and he quickly added, “I just-- I need to take care of something, okay?” 

She nodded, still stunned, as he pulled his damp sweater back over his head. “But I’ll come back tomorrow. With new seeds. I promise.”

Before she could say his name again, that way that was making his heart do funny flips in his chest, he was out the door.

The whole trip back to the village, his mind was reeling, trying to make sense of what the  _ hell _ had just happened. She had  _ remembered  _ him, all these years later, and she’d told him about it while she was leaning against him, and the way her head had rested against his shoulder had made him think it had always belonged there. 

He went to his grandfather’s house, unsure of what else to do. Grandpapa saw him coming and opened the door, raising his eyebrows at his disheveled state. “What have you gotten into this time?”

Kristoff shook his head. “I can’t-- I can’t do it anymore. I can’t help you take care of her anymore. Find someone else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a struggle and a half to write and I changed my mind about what would happen in it about 100000 times. But I'm hoping y'all enjoyed it almost as much as Kristoff enjoyed his unexpected snuggles >:)


	7. letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two long chapters two days in a row because I hated to leave you guys (and Anna) hanging :)

Anna had been unable to sit still all day. She’d jumped out of bed, scurried around tidying every corner of the cabin, braided and unbraided her hair a dozen times, all while keeping a watchful eye turned towards the windows, and still, he hadn’t come. All the while, the storm had continued, rain lashing against the windows and thunder rattling the roof.

She’d almost scalded herself making a pot of tea when she’d heard a thump at the door and nearly dropped the kettle. Breathless, she had darted towards the front of the house, expecting to see him coming in, shaking the rainwater from his hair and grinning at her in that lopsided way that had a funny way of making her smile, too. 

It had only been a strong gust of wind knocking the branches of that old oak tree against the side of the house. She stood and watched from the window as it happened again, disappointment flooding her chest. 

_ He promised _ , she reminded herself.  _ Kristoff isn’t the kind of man to break a promise _ .

She didn’t know how she was so sure of that fact, considering she’d only been here for six weeks. Then again, it had been thirteen years since they had first met. That had to count for something.

She couldn’t stop marveling at that fact, couldn’t stop replaying the previous evening’s conversation in her head. All those years of wondering-- who he’d been, what he was like now, whether he’d show up again-- only to find the answer had been right in front of her all along.

Well, technically, the answer had been right next to her, with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. And the answer happened to look very nice in the glow of the firelight, especially when the hem of his shirt had pulled up just enough to afford her a glance of his well-muscled torso.

_ Stop it, Anna. This is Kristoff. He’s your friend. He doesn’t think of you like that, anyway. _

She wished he did. His shoulder made for an  _ excellent _ pillow. Leaning against Kristoff’s side was something she could definitely get used to. Maybe he’d known she was thinking that; maybe that was why he had jumped up and left so suddenly. Probably freaked out that an engaged woman was acting like that around him.

Anna blinked and realized she was standing at the kitchen window, nose almost pressed against the glass, hands wound tightly in her half-braided hair. She’d have to apologize to him whenever he got here, make sure he knew that her little freakout and subsequent soul-baring had been a one-time thing. Things could go back to normal between them, back to all the teasing and bickering that had become an integral part of the fabric of her life without her quite realizing it.

But maybe sometimes they could just be nice to each other like they had the night before. And maybe sometimes when she was really tired he’d still put his arm around her again. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

Maybe it would. Maybe that was why he still hadn’t come. The day was more than half over. But he had  _ promised _ .

She finished making her tea and sat with her steaming mug on the sofa, focusing so hard in the hopes of sighting Kristoff that her head began to hurt. She closed her eyes, just for a moment, just to give them a quick rest, and dozed off, lulled to sleep by the pounding of the rain. 

She dreamed of golden hair that glimmered in the firelight and warm hands clasped around her own and a voice that whispered  _ I’ll come back, I promise, I promise, I promise. _

* * *

She awoke with a start, nearly falling off the sofa. “Hello?” she called, voice still heavy with sleep, hoping maybe she’d been woken up by a knock at the door, the pounding of hoofs,  _ anything _ that meant she wasn’t still alone on top of the hill.

Nobody answered. 

Anna leaned up and peered out of the window, surprised to see the rain had finally stopped, clouds dissipating to reveal the velvety black of the night sky spattered with stars. For a moment, she wished desperately she could go out, and then remembered that there was no one around to stop her. 

The blanket was still on the floor from the previous night. She picked it up, wrapping it around her shoulders, and stepped outside to stand on the porch. The air was chilly, but she welcomed the night breeze as it brushed past her cheeks, lifting the ends of her hair. She closed her eyes and listened for a few moments, relishing the sounds of the mountain; the rustle of leaves, the soft hooting of an owl somewhere in the distance, the utter stillness that came as the world caught its breath after such a relentless storm.

Anna opened her eyes again, gazing upwards at the stars and feeling suddenly very small. She had spent most of her life feeling forgotten, always kept away from the rest of the world, living her life in the shadow of her sister. But Kristoff had  _ remembered _ her, and she’d thought that maybe, finally, things would change.

She had been wrong. But Anna was no stranger to disappointment. She pulled the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders and slipped back inside.

* * *

She was outside the next morning, examining the pitiful remnants of her garden when she heard the familiar sound of reindeer hooves against the path. Hardly daring to believe it, she darted to the front of the house, heart leaping in her chest when she saw Sven cresting the hill-- and then falling back in disappointment when she saw it was only Kristoff’s grandfather in the wagon. 

To her surprise, a little voice called out, “Anna! Hi! We came to see you!”

Olaf’s head popped up from the back of the wagon, and she couldn’t help but laugh. She had to admit she was growing fond of the little boy and his endless stream of questions whenever they ran into him in town. 

The boy jumped down and ran up to her, and she knelt down so he could fling himself into her arms for a hug. “Hey, little guy. What are you doing up here?”

“I came to help Grandpapa! He said I can be his new helper for a while since Kris can’t anymore!”

Anna fought to hide the wave of emotions that had suddenly slammed into her gut. “Oh, that’s-- that’s great. It’ll be nice to see you more,” she said.

Olaf, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice the hollowness of her tone. Already he was pulling away from her, chattering away without a care in the world. “So I’ll be here all the time so you can talk to me more and we can do fun things! Like climb this tree! Grandpapa said I can do that while you do stuff inside because I’m not allowed to be in there yet even though I’m going to be his helper because--”

“ _ Enough _ , Olaf,” the older man said, though there was a fond twinkle in his eye. “You can bother the princess  _ after _ you finish helping me carry in these groceries.”

“I can help--” Anna began, but he waved her off.

“Don’t trouble yourself, we’ve got it,” he said, handing a bag to Olaf. Anna forced herself to hide her frustration as she tailed the two of them indoors. Kristoff would have at least let her do  _ something _ useful. 

Olaf almost immediately darted back outdoors, whooping with joy, and a small smile crept onto Anna’s face. It faded away, however, when she glanced back at the old man and saw him staring at her, his forehead creased. It smoothed out when he realized she was looking.

“While I’m here, might as well check in, see how you’re doing,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “Any shortness of breath?”

“No, still only when I climb the stairs too quickly.”  _ And when Kristoff takes his sweater off. _

“Any tightness or pain in your chest?”

“No.”  _ Except for right now when I wonder why you’re the one here. _

“You’re still eating three times a day, getting fresh air for at least a half-hour?”

She nodded.

“Well, then, it sounds like everything’s in perfect order, so I’ll--”

“Why isn’t Kristoff coming anymore?” she blurted out.

He sat back in his chair, wearing an expression she couldn’t quite place. “He told me he could no longer care for you in an official capacity,” he said, clearly choosing his words with caution. Anna frowned.

“Why not?”

“I do not pretend to understand that boy,” came the response, chillier than she had ever heard him. She sat back, feeling chastised. 

“I’m...sorry, if I did something,” she said, casting her eyes downward and picking at her skirt. “Will you tell him I said that?”

The old man heaved a sigh. “You can tell him yourself. I have a feeling you’ll be seeing him again.”

Anna’s head snapped back up. “You think he’ll come back? I-- I mean...he told me he’d be here yesterday, actually-- he promised to bring me...something.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes roving over her face as if he was trying to come to a decision. At last, he nodded.

“He would have come yesterday if I’d let him. But I’m afraid he’s come down with something, probably from being out in that storm,” he said, a touch of admonishment in his voice. 

“Is he okay?” Anna asked, knowing she was blushing at the implied rebuke.

“Fever, chills, coughing, but nothing serious. But I’m sure he’ll be back up here as soon as I give him a clean bill of health-- probably sooner, stubborn boy. And on that note, I should be getting back to him.”

He stood, inclining his head to Anna, but before he could say goodbye, she grabbed his sleeve. “Wait-- I need to...tell him something. Can I send you a letter for him? Please? I promise it won’t take me long to write.”

The old man’s face softened just a fraction. “Well...all right.”

She scrambled for pen and paper, trying and failing not to splotch the paper with ink in her hurry.

_ Dear Kristoff, _

_ I’m sorry to hear you’re ill. I would like to offer my full apologies for my part in it. I promise not to make you chase after me in a storm again. _

_ Your grandfather says you won’t be helping me out around here anymore. I hope I haven’t done something to offend you and apologize most sincerely for that as well if I have. _

She bit her lip, the pen hovering over the paper as she debated adding the next line. 

_ Regardless, I hope that our paths will cross again, as I have come to think of you as a dear friend. I would at least like to give you a proper thank-you for all you’ve done for me. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Anna _

She folded the letter carefully, hoping Olaf wouldn’t get curious and peek at it. Kristoff’s grandfather nodded and took it. “I’ll see he gets it,” he said, that enigmatic look in his eye again. Anna only nodded, holding the door open for him as he left, calling for Olaf, who waved at Anna the whole way down the hill.

She busied herself with small chores around the cottage, even the ones she’d just done the day before; anything to keep her hands and thoughts occupied. When a knock came at the door only a few hours later as she was in the middle of cleaning her dishes from an early dinner, she jumped, too surprised to respond. The knock came again, accompanied by a familiar little voice calling, “Anna! It’s me!”

She ran for the door, wiping her hands on her skirt. She flung it open to see Olaf wearing a bright smile and waving a folded piece of paper. “Olaf? What are you doing here?”

“I brought you a letter!”

Her heart beat a little faster. Had he really answered her so quickly? 

“From-- from who?”

“From Kris, duh! You just wrote him, remember? Geez, did you hit your head or something? Is that why you’re up here?”

Anna couldn’t help but laugh. “Come in and sit down. I just made some tea if you’d like some.”

“Yes, please, with milk and sugar and no tea.”

She poured it for him as requested, her hands trembling as she handed the cup to him, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Here you are. Can I see the letter now?”

“Oh, yeah! It’s yours, anyway, so you can see it whenever you want, but here it--”

She plucked it from his hand, unable to wait any longer. “Thanks, buddy.”

_Dear_ _Anna,_

_ Don’t apologize. I would have been out in the storm anyway. Besides, I probably got sick from something else. Don’t apologize for the other stuff either. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just have to figure some stuff out. Sorry for saying stuff a lot, my head hurts and Olaf is talking to me anyway (really loudly) so I can’t really think straight and explain stuff better.  _

_ Sorry I didn’t come yesterday. I know I promised, but Grandpa took one look at me and told me I wasn’t allowed to get out of bed. And I don’t want to get you sick again after you worked so hard to get better. I’ll make it up to you later. But for now, I can still get you the seeds you want. If you want, I mean. I'll ask my grandfather to pick some up. I can send Olaf back with them, and he can help you plant them. He needs to work off some of his energy, anyway, so he stops pestering me, so really you’ll be doing me a favor by taking him off my hands for a few hours. _

_ This letter is getting kind of long now. I hope you don’t mind. I’m sorry again. I promise to come see you again when I’m better.  _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Kristoff _

She scrambled around for another piece of paper. Olaf watched her, curious. “Was it that good of a letter?” he asked. “Kris seemed really grumpy when he was writing it.”

“Doesn’t he always seem kind of grumpy?”

“...good point.”

Olaf made himself another cup of milk, adding an extra spoonful of sugar when he thought she wasn’t looking. She couldn’t bring herself to care, too busy reveling in the fact that he didn’t hate her, that he would come back, that she  _ hadn’t _ been wrong about him.

Finally, she found a stack of stationery paper in the desk in the living room and sat down to write, biting her lip as she scribbled furiously.

_ Dear Kristoff, _

_ I’m glad you’re well enough to write me back so quickly. But I agree with your grandfather; you’re not allowed out of bed until you’re all the way better. I’ll be very cross with you if you end up doing something silly and getting worse and end up stuck at home even longer and leave me stranded up here without anyone to argue with! _

_ Sunflowers are my favorite. I’ll send a little money with Olaf, I hope it’s enough. If not just tell me. And you can send him up here any time, I promise, even without a letter. Although it was very nice to get yours.  _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Anna _

She hesitated, glancing into the kitchen, and added a quick postscript.

_ PS-- tea always makes me feel better when I’m ill. I’d make you some if I were there with you. But since I can’t, I’m sending Olaf with a bit of Irish breakfast for you and the biggest mug I have. I hope it helps. _

Her cheeks flushed pink as she scrambled to put together the little package and tie the letter to it. Olaf looked at her, tilting his head in confusion. “Anna? Why are you blushing? If you’re embarrassed about writing a letter to Kristoff, I don’t have to take it back to him. I can just tell him you--”

“No! No. I’m fine. Here-- take this,” she said breathlessly, shoving the hastily wrapped bundle towards him. “Be careful, it’s fragile.”

He nodded, looking skeptical. “Grown-ups are weird sometimes.”

Anna just tilted her head back and laughed.

* * *

The next few days were a flurry of letter writing and flower planting and endless questions from Olaf. “Why are you smiling so much today, Anna?” he asked her as they watered the patch of earth where they had planted the sunflower seeds.

“I-- it’s nothing,” she said quickly, though she knew her smile was only growing broader. “I’m just happy to be working in the garden with you.”

Olaf grinned. “I’m happy, too. You’re much less grouchy than Kristoff.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. He’s a big baby when he’s sick. And he keeps telling me his head is going to explode if I talk to him too loud, so I keep talking louder, but it doesn’t happen, and then he frowns at me until I bring him snacks. But he doesn’t smile then, he just stops frowning so much. He only smiles when you send him letters, so maybe today send a couple of extra ones if you can, okay?”

She laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Oh-- now that I think about it, I almost forgot to give you today’s letter! Here-- sorry it got chocolate on it. I needed a snack before I left. It’s hard work walking up and down this hill every day, you know.”

“And I’m terribly grateful for your efforts,” Anna said, ruffling the boy’s white-blond hair affectionately. 

She unfolded the letter, her smile growing broader with each sentence.

_ Anna, _

_ I think I’ll be able to come visit you again tomorrow. I can finally make up for breaking my promise. There’s somewhere I want to show you. It’s even better than going into town, I promise. My grandfather even said he thinks it’s okay and might make you feel better. Which took a lot of convincing, so I hope you like it and it’s worth it. If not, I guess I’ll have two promises to make up for. _

_ See you tomorrow? _

_ Kristoff _

Heart thudding in her chest, she pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from her pocket, where she’d taken to keeping it at all times.  _ Yes, _ she wrote, drawing a smile beneath the word.  _ I can’t wait. _


	8. adventures

"Are you sure you feel like going up there, Kris? You still look pretty gross to me."

"I'm fine, Olaf."

"I'm just saying, you seem pretty pale and weak and stuff. I would get back in b--"

The boy's protests were cut off by a shriek of glee when strong arms swept him high off the ground. Olaf whooped as Kristoff set him on his broad shoulders with a grin.

"Do I still seem weak now?" he teased.

Olaf clapped. "Do it again! But flip me this time!"

"Even I have my limits, bud. But you can stay up there while I finish getting my stuff together."

“Okay!”

Kristoff hummed to himself as he finished filling up his satchel with what he might need for the day. His lips curved into a soft smile as he picked up the mug Anna had loaned him, running his thumb gently over the rim, wondering if she’d ever used this one herself, if her mouth had lingered there. 

“Kristoff! I have a question!”

Startled, he nearly dropped the mug. “Olaf, you really don’t have to shout all the time.”

“Yes I do. Just now I had to say your name two times before you listened.”

Kristoff sighed and carefully began wrapping the mug in a spare rag and tucking it into the satchel. “What is it?”

“Can I go  _ with _ you?”

“Not this time. You’ve got to help Grandpapa, remember? You’re helping him run errands and then going to talk to Gothi about taking over my job.”

“But I thought  _ I  _ was the new helper.”

“You are. Just sometimes...I don’t know, if something happens with Anna, and Grandpapa can’t go, then he can.”

“Why can’t you just do it? I thought you liked her. If you don’t like her, then why did you send her so many letters?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?” Kristoff asked, reaching up to tickle Olaf until the boy giggled and clambered down, running into the next room to escape the torment.

In truth, he and his grandfather both knew there would be little need for Gothi to actually do anything. Anna’s condition had been improving to the point that she no longer needed to be kept under a watchful eye every day, so long as she continued following Grandpapa’s advice, even when it meant choking down little vials of sludgy brown medicine. 

For the long term, the outlook was still bleak, a thought that still felt like a punch to the gut every time it crossed Kristoff’s mind. But for now, Anna was well and whole as she could be, and after a week of being cooped up indoors with a particularly nasty cold, so was he. And he was going to see her again, because he had promised-- because she  _ wanted _ him to.

Unconsciously he ran his hand over his pocket, where he’d put the letter she had sent with Olaf yesterday.  _ Yes. I can’t wait. See you tomorrow. I’ve missed you. _

He didn’t know why he was holding onto such an unimportant note; it was a grubby little piece of paper, clearly written in a rush, smudged with dirt from where she’d been working in the garden with Olaf. He knew what it said, so he had no need to re-read it, though he had done so at least half a dozen times. 

He heard a small cough and looked up to see his grandfather leaning in the doorway, wearing a look of concern that was starting to seem permanent. It hadn’t budged since Kristoff had burst in saying he couldn’t take care of Anna anymore. He’d spilled it all out to his grandfather, explaining how he’d found Anna weeping outside in the storm, how they remembered each other, how it was starting to feel wrong to accept payment from the queen to take care of someone he considered a friend-- and how he was starting to fear his affection for Anna might cloud his judgment. 

He had talked so long-- unusual for him-- that his grandfather had insisted he stay the night, which had turned out to be a blessing in disguise when Kristoff had woken up the next morning burning with fever. Even then, Grandpapa’s frown hadn’t been quite as deep as it was now.

“Thanks again for letting me stay here,” Kristoff said, shouldering his bag.

The old man nodded slowly. “I’m your grandfather. I could hardly throw you back out into the storm shivering with fever and hacking up a lung.”

Kristoff started for the door, but his grandfather didn’t move; instead, he held up a hand. “Are you sure about this, son? I worry about the harm it may cause.”

“We talked about this yesterday, Grandpapa. We’re going to go really slowly, and I’ll watch her, and we’ll turn back the second she starts having a hard time. It’ll be okay.”

“I wasn’t talking about the princess.”

Kristoff shifted uncomfortably where he stood. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “We’re just going on a walk.”

His grandfather nodded, stepping aside. “Be careful, all the same,” he said, and Kristoff, feeling a sudden burst of affection, leaned down to hug him.

“Always am, aren’t I?” he said, hoping he sounded cheerful, as he pulled away and headed for the front door. “You be careful, too. Don’t let Olaf steer the wagon, no matter how much he begs.”

“I’d sooner jump in a frozen lake. That would be a lot less foolish.”

* * *

Summer was finally coming to the mountain. For weeks it had teased them with the promise of an early-ending spring, giving them sun-drenched afternoons that faded into chilly twilights and cold winds that crept through windows that had been cracked open for the first time in months. But June was just around the corner, and the whole world was fresh and sweet as the wildflowers that wavered in the breeze. Kristoff had left his outerwear at home, wearing only a loose blue shirt and rolling up the sleeves so he could feel the warmth of the mid-morning sun seeping into his bones. A feeling of contentment settled over him like a cat curling in the windowsill for a nap, and he found himself smiling as he climbed the hill and the cottage came into view.

His smile broadened when he saw Anna waiting for him on the porch, bouncing slightly on the tips of her toes as she waved. “About time you got here!” she called, laughter in her voice. “It feels like I’ve been waiting for  _ hours _ .”

He came to a stop just as he reached the peak of the hill. “Well, if you’re going to be like that, I might as well turn around and go back…”

“Don’t you dare!” she ordered, no longer able to restrain her excitement as she flew off the porch and ran to him, flinging her arms around his waist. 

Stunned, he stood frozen for a moment before hugging her back, pulling her close against his chest. Surely she had to hear the way his heart was ricocheting off his ribcage, the way his breathing had quickened, but if she did, she didn’t care. 

“I missed you, too,” he whispered, feeling her arms tighten around him in response.

They stood that way for a while before Anna untangled her arms from around him and he reluctantly let go. “Sorry,” she said, color flaming in her cheeks. “It’s just been, uh, really quiet around here.”

“Are you telling me even  _ Olaf _ wasn’t enough to keep you occupied?”

She laughed. “After a while, all his questions sort of fade into background noise. But I hope it gave you some relief to send him up here so much. Are you feeling better now?”

“Definitely.”

Her eyes lit up. “And ready to take me on an adventure?”

“Of course. But here--” he said, digging in his satchel and pulling out the carefully wrapped mug. “Might want to put this up first.”

She took it with a grin and headed for the kitchen. “Did it help?” she called over her shoulder as he followed her in. 

“Yes. Even better than Grandpapa’s medicine.”

“Oh, god, I think anything would be better than  _ that _ ,” she said with a theatrical shiver as she replaced the mug in the cabinet. “Before we go, do you need me to get anything? Or I can help you carry your satchel if you need a break, or...”

“Actually, I forgot a blanket. Would you mind grabbing one for us?”

She nodded excitedly and darted into the living room for the now-familiar plaid blanket. He grinned after her; he hadn’t forgotten at all, but he had long since realized how much it meant to her to help out, even with the smallest things. The blanket would easily be light enough for her to carry it all day without getting tired-- and besides, he was starting to feel attached to this one. 

She came back with it folded over her arm, practically vibrating with excitement. “Okay, I’m ready. Where are we going?”

He led her outside, holding the door open for her and laughing when she clumsily curtsied in spite of her cargo. “To one of my favorite places. It’s not far, but we do have to walk since I don’t have Sven today. Tell me if you get tired, okay?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve spent so much time cooped up indoors laying around like a lump, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired again.”

He led her down the hill, making sure to take the least steep path down the slope, and then veered to the right, towards a gap between two oak trees. “Watch where you step. There’s a path, but I haven’t been out here since last fall, so I don’t know how clear it is.”

Normally, he could have easily made the hike in twenty minutes by walking at a clip and scaling the small cliff that blocked the way, but none of that was possible with Anna in tow. He found himself not caring in the slightest, relishing her little gasps of excitement each time she sighted something new and wondrous and paused to examine it. That was the benefit of taking the long way around; it meant more time with her, and it meant there was no risk of over-exerting herself-- the incline was slight this way, and there were ample opportunities for her to stop and catch her breath without embarrassing herself by having to ask. 

That was what he’d told his grandfather the day before, having carefully chosen this spot and planned out his argument over two days spent in bed in between dozing off and listening to Olaf chatter on about everything that floated through his mind.

Anna, for once, was almost quiet, blue eyes wide with wonder as she drank it all in. Kristoff found himself wishing he could see his world through her eyes, meet the mountain and its hidden treasures for the first time all over again. “Kristoff, this is the most amazing place I’ve ever seen,” she breathed, examining a butterfly that was sunning its wings on the side of a tree. “I could stay here forever.”

_ Then stay _ , he thought. “Just wait. We’re almost there.”

They turned a corner past a copse of trees, and Anna gasped, her hands flying to her mouth so quickly Kristoff barely had time to catch the blanket as it fell. “Is-- is this  _ real _ ?”

He laughed. “I hope so. Come on.”

He led her into the glade, feeling a sense of pride as she stared, speechless. They were near the banks of a pond that shimmered an unearthly blue, the color of water that had once been part of a glacier. It was past midday, and the sun sparkled on the surface of the pond, as if stars had fallen there and decided to linger. Beneath their feet was a field of tiny purple primroses, which Anna was doing her utmost not to crush. 

“Do you really like it?” Kristoff asked, suddenly nervous.

She nodded furiously. “Oh, this is going to the  _ top _ of my happy ever after list.”

The ground was still damp from the last remnants of spring rains and melting snow, and so he led her to a small boulder caught between shade and sunlight that rose almost to his height. “Need help climbing up?”

“I can do it,” she said, already scurrying towards the smaller rocks beside it and clambering up. 

He grinned. “Well done, feistypants.”

Once she was seated, he found a foothold on the side and hoisted himself up with ease. To his surprise, when he glanced at Anna again, her cheeks were pink.

She cleared her throat. “So, anyway, while we’re on the subject, did you ever think of yours?”

“My what?”

“Your happy ever after, remember? I told you mine ages ago. Now it’s your turn.”

He pondered it for a minute. He’d given the idea thought for a brief moment here and there, more out of boredom than anything else. But now, with a sense of peace warming him even more than the sunlight, he thought maybe he had an idea.

“I think mine would just be...being here as much as I can. Just enjoying all of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the view.

“That’s it?”

“Well, it’s all I’ve got.”

“No big house or piles of money or beautiful wife?”

Why were his cheeks suddenly burning? “I-- I mean, if that stuff happened too, it would be nice. Probably, anyway. But this is all I really need.”

She tilted her head, examining him, before nodding in approval. “Then it counts. Congratulations, Kristoff Bjorgman, you’re officially part of the happy ever after game.”

“Is there a prize to win?”

“It’s not  _ that _ kind of game.”

“Then it’s not a game, is it?” he teased, and she stuck out her tongue.

“What’d you bring in your bag?” she asked, already pulling it open to see for herself.

“Sandwiches. I thought you might be--”

“My favorite!” she exclaimed, pulling one out. “You remembered.”

“Lucky coincidence,” he lied. “Just the easiest picnic food to pack.”

Anna was already tearing into a ham sandwich, looking distinctly unprincesslike. Kristoff unwrapped one for himself, and they ate in companionable silence, enjoying the warmth of the day as it thawed away the last of winter’s chill.

After a while, he glanced over to see Anna leaning forward, elbows propped on her knees as she rested her chin on her hands. She noticed him looking and waggled her eyebrows. “Like what you see?”

For a single moment, neither of them dared to breathe, and then they both burst out into laughter. She sat back up, leaning her head to rest on his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Without hesitation, he put his arm around her, hoping that he seemed just as casual.

“I really did mean what I said in my first letter,” Anna said, a touch of shyness in her voice. “I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me.”

“It was nothing, really,” he began, but already she was shaking her head.

“I mean it. For all the stuff you did for me since I came up here. And-- and for playing with me when we were little. It still feels so crazy that it was you I’d been wondering about for all those years, and I didn’t even realize it at first.”

He swallowed hard. “Well-- you’re welcome. What are friends for, huh?”

She nodded, and he squeezed her closer for a moment, wishing he had words to tell her that he wanted to thank her, too, for making him laugh more than he ever had, for making him see the world with new eyes, for reminding him that there was more to life than making it through one day after another. He glanced down in time to catch her yawning. “Ready to go back?” he asked gently.

“No. But maybe we should. I think napping on this rock would be a recipe for a sore neck.”

He laughed and jumped down from the rock, landing with ease. With a sudden gleam in her eye, Anna scooted forward. “Catch me!” she called, already pushing off from the rock.

Kristoff did, eyes wide as she landed in his outstretched arms. She patted his chest and clambered down, already heading back towards the path. “Give me more of a warning next time, eh?” he called after her. “What if I’d dropped you?”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” she called back. 

He knew it then, that it was hopeless; maybe it always had been. 

He followed after her like he knew he would for the rest of his life if only she would let him.

They chattered the whole way back, about the trees and plants and animals that made this forest their home; about the silly things Olaf had said and done over the last week; about the sunflowers Anna had planted in his absence and how long it would take them to grow. At some point, the path grew a little steep, and Anna stumbled; Kristoff offered his arm, and she took it, not letting go even when it evened out again.

The sun was only barely beginning to set as they emerged back out onto the main path and turned for the cottage. To Kristoff’s surprise, there was a carriage out front, a large, dark green one, hitched to two white horses. Anna let go of him then, darting up the hill and calling, “Elsa! You came!”

He followed more slowly, trying to give the sisters a moment to catch up. For a moment he debated simply turning and slipping away, but he saw Anna gesturing at him as she explained something to her sister, and the queen turned to look at him with that cool, heavy-lidded look of appraisal. Anna disappeared inside for a moment; he was close enough to hear her tell her sister she was putting on the kettle for tea.

Kristoff cleared his throat, turning to the queen, but she cut him off.

“You and I have much to discuss, Mr. Bjorgman,” she said. “I’ve come with quite a few questions, but they can wait for tomorrow. Tonight I’ll spend with my sister.”

“I’ll take my leave, then.”

She caught his elbow before he could turn away. “A moment, though, Mr. Bjorgman,” she said, her tone amiable though her eyes flashed icy cold. “I appreciate your efforts in caring for my sister. But I fear you have forgotten one thing.”

“What would that be, your majesty?”

“Your place.”

With that, she turned away from him in a swirl of skirts, entering the cottage and closing the door firmly behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Elsa won't always be like this aaaaa


	9. fears

Elsa looked at her sister’s back, hating herself for what she was about to say.

“Do you have feelings for that man?”

Anna, who had been busily pouring two cups of tea, paused, the teapot suspended in midair. It was all the answer Elsa needed. She hadn’t needed to ask in the first place, really; the radiant smile on Anna’s face as she’d come up the hill had told her everything.

Anna set down the teapot with a decided _thunk_ , loud enough that Elsa winced, half expecting it to break. “Why do you care?”

“Because I’m your sister.”

Anna stirred sugar into both cups of tea, her shoulders stiff. “He has a name, you know.”

“Mr. Bjorgman--”

“Kristoff _._ ”

Elsa sighed heavily. “ _Kristoff_ should know better than to take you traipsing around the mountains.”

It was the sort of thing her father would have said. She didn’t know if that made it the right thing.

“Why?” her sister challenged, chin raised in defiance. 

_Because he knows what’s wrong with you. Because overdoing it just once could kill you. Because I saw the way you looked at each other, and that’s not part of the plan._

“Because you’re a princess, and he’s...well, he’s just a man from the mountains.”

“I happen to _like_ these mountains.”

Elsa pinched the bridge of her nose; this was going nowhere. “You know what I mean.”

Anna’s face was screwed up tight; angry as she was, she was fighting back tears. She had always been an angry crier, always expressed her frustration through a wave of hot teardrops rolling down her cheeks. “He’s my _friend_ , Elsa.”

“Just a friend?”

“ _Jesus_ , Elsa, yes, okay?”

It was Elsa’s turn to frown; Anna had always been spirited and unafraid of an argument, but there was a new edge to this anger, something as brittle as it was sharp. 

“I’m sorry,” she said hesitantly. “I didn’t want to upset you. I’m just...worried.”

Anna crossed her arms. “You’re more worried about me making friends than you are about me marrying a guy from another _country_ . A guy I don’t even _know_.”

“You can say no, Anna, this isn’t the Middle Ages.”

“But that would mess up the plan, wouldn’t it?”

“It might,” Elsa admitted. “You know how long our father worked on settling this alliance. Arendelle is in a weak position right now, with only two surviving members of our family. The Southern Isles are able to provide us with the economic and military backing we need. This marriage cements that alliance, joins our countries together. It’ll bring sorely needed stability.”

Anna looked away from her then. She knew all of this. It was the same speech their father’s advisors had been giving them ever since their parents’ untimely passing. Elsa, floundering in her newfound role as queen, had latched onto it as the next right step-- but only after asking if it were possible for her to be the one to marry into the Westergaard family instead.

It wasn’t; according to their laws, to do so would mean she forfeited the crown and her titles, effectively handing Arendelle over like a treat to a slavering dog. And so the burden had fallen on Anna, as it so often seemed to. At first, she had accepted it cheerfully, proclaiming that she was grateful to have a prince found for her instead of having to do all the hard work of looking for herself. If she had ever thought otherwise, she had never made her thoughts known to her elder sister, not that she would have had a chance to; they hadn’t been particularly close since they were small, and Elsa had used her coronation as an excuse to pull even further away from her sister.

She hated herself for it, knew it was the coward’s way out of dealing with the mess their parents had left them in. She was the guardian now, of Anna and of the secret, and that thought terrified her more than negotiating trade deals and managing diplomatic relations. 

More than once, she had wanted to just _tell_ Anna, explain the whole damn story like it should have been in the first place. To do so would give Anna the answers she had been seeking since she was a child, would finally open up the chance to melt the wall of ice between them, would change absolutely everything.

But every time she told herself she was finally going to do it, she saw her father’s face as he had knelt down to explain to her that her little sister was on death’s door. She could still see Anna lying in her bed, so tiny and so pale she looked like a forgotten little ghost. She remembered hearing her parents whisper when they had thought she was asleep.

_They had tucked her in bed an hour ago, but it was impossible to sleep without the steady background noise of Anna’s little snores. Elsa found herself now with her ear pressed to the solid wood of her parents’ bedroom door, hoping to finally understand what was going on._

“ _She must have caught it from playing with Elsa.”_

_“But why is it so much worse?”_

_Her father sighed. “The doctor said it’s progressed faster anyway because she’s younger, but...we didn’t catch it in time. We were so focused on Elsa…”_

_Elsa ran away as fast as her little legs could carry her, all the way down the hall to the big room, the one that was supposed to be for company. And now there was lots of company, but Anna was the one who stayed in the big room and slept in the big bed. She was alone in there now. Anna didn’t like to sleep alone. She liked to know her big sister was right there in case she had a nightmare._

_Elsa wondered if she was having nightmares now. The thought frightened her; Anna had been asleep for so long. What if she got stuck in one?_

_She had to stand on her tiptoes to peer over the edge of the bed and see her sister. Her hands were the same color as the sheets, but her cheeks were red, like she had just gotten in trouble for something. Elsa wanted to take her hand, but she knew she wasn’t allowed to touch Anna, not while she was like this. She wasn’t even supposed to be in here. She didn’t care._

_“I’m here, Anna,” she whispered, her little voice thick with tears. “I’ll always be here.”_

How many times had she broken that promise over the years? 

Anna was sipping her tea, still resolutely refusing to make eye contact. Elsa cleared her throat. 

“You...you do look well, by the way,” she said, managing a small smile. “Being in the mountain air seems to have done a lot to help you.”

“Yes, the air,” Anna said drily.

“And it’s beautiful up here, all the wildflowers…”

Anna finally flicked her eyes in Elsa’s direction, just for a moment. “How much do you like them?”

“Oh, I think they might make it into my happy ever after.”

A grin spread across Anna’s face, and Elsa felt herself smile, too, relieved to be back in familiar territory, the language of their childhood, the bond they had built on shared, silly dreams. 

“Me, too. And the place we saw today, I...I think you would have liked that too.”

“Maybe you can show me sometime,” Elsa said. “Next time I visit?”

Anna’s smile faded. “I don’t know. Kristoff is the one who showed me the way.”

Elsa fidgeted with her skirt. “It’s not that I dislike him, Anna. I just...worry about you.”

“Everyone always worries about me. Even when there’s absolutely no reason to.”

“Point taken. Maybe...maybe it is good that you’ve got a friend up here, since I can’t be here with you.”

Anna just nodded. Elsa reached over and squeezed her hand. After a moment, Anna squeezed back. 

It was something, at least.

* * *

The next morning when she met with Kristoff and his grandfather, she was frostier than ever, hoping to hide the way she felt suddenly off-balance, like she was midway through taking a step and was unsure where to place her foot. 

She found it especially hard to focus on the younger man without remembering him the way he had looked yesterday with Anna on his arm. It had been as if nothing else existed for him, as if she was the axis of his world; the glow of her expression had been reflected back in his smile.

She pitied them both, knowing it would have to end someday for some reason or another, even if Anna did decide to break off her engagement. Princesses didn't just marry rough-hewn men from mountain villages. She had hoped that by talking with the both of them she might be able to root it out before it ever blossomed, but judging by Anna’s reaction, the tragedy would run its course regardless of her attempts at interference.

They were seated at worn kitchen table. Kristoff was drumming his fingers against the wood, keeping his expression carefully blank, though she could see by his eyes he was nervous. She couldn’t blame him after what she’d said to him the evening before.

“Your sister has improved by leaps and bounds since coming here,” the old man was explaining. “As important as rest is for her, I believe that perhaps my grandson has the right idea in letting her get small bursts of exercise. They seem to strengthen both her body and spirit.”

“I thought your grandson would no longer have anything to do with Anna’s care,” she replied coolly.

“He is seeing to other matters now, yes. But, your majesty, the princess has improved so much that I believe she no longer needs his dedicated attention.”

“And yet she seems to be getting it anyway,” she snapped.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Finally the older man spoke, his tone equally as cold. “If you are unhappy with your sister’s remarkable recovery, then by all means, take her home.”

“I wouldn’t call it recovery. We all know she isn’t fully out of the woods.”

“And she never will be. But progress is progress, is it not?”

Elsa stood. “I suppose that remains to be seen. Anna will stay in the mountains for now. Gentlemen, I bid you good day.”

She climbed into her carriage outdoors, head held high, and pulled the curtains closed in all four windows, hiding her face in case they were watching her go. Still, she waited until she was halfway down the mountain before she allowed herself to bury her face in her hands and weep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lack of kristanna in this chapter, i'll make it up to you very soon!! for now hopefully getting a little bit more of elsa's side of things helps clear up some stuff (tbh i had to write it out to make it all make sense for myself LMAO)


	10. three sugars

  
  


~~_Dear Anna_ ~~

~~_Your Majesty_ ~~

~~_To Her Lady, the Princess Anna_ ~~

~~_Feistypants_ ~~

~~_Dearest Anna_ ~~

_Anna,_

_I’m not really sure how to be friends with a princess. So I just wanted to apologize if I overstepped. Please feel free to ignore this letter if you want, or tell me to piss off._

_(I don’t know if princesses are allowed to say that, but I won’t tell anyone if you do.)_

_Sincerely,_

_Kristoff_

“Olaf!”

The boy groaned. “Kris, you’re really going to make me walk all the way up there _again_?”

“Weren’t you begging to go with me a couple of days ago?”

“Well, I’m busy today.”

“I happen to have inside knowledge that Anna was planning to bake cookies today.”

That did the trick. Olaf grabbed the letter and was out the door faster than Kristoff could remind him not to peek at it.

* * *

“Olaf?”

“Hmm?” the boy asked, midway through taking a bite of a warm cookie.

“Was my sister at your house yesterday?”

“You mean that blonde lady with the fancy dress? Yeah, why?”

“Did she talk to Kristoff?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Thought so,” Anna muttered, rifling through her desk for another piece of paper. She was running low; she’d have to pick up another stack next time they went into town. As much as she loved talking with Kristoff in person, there was something about getting letters from him that made her heart flutter. She loved reading them over and over again, tracing the letters with the tips of her fingers and knowing his had been there, too. 

For a while now, she had found herself thinking of Kristoff more often than not, wondering what he was doing when they were apart, whether his heart thudded like hers did with each new letter, how it would feel if he held her close and let her linger in his arms.

She had gotten her answer the day before yesterday, when he’d come back to take her on the promised adventure, and her heart had felt so full she couldn’t help but throw herself at him-- and he had _caught_ her, wrapped his arms so tightly around her and whispered that he had missed her. It had felt even better than she had imagined.

She knew he only saw her as a friend; he had made that clear. _That’s okay_ , she told herself, _I can live with that. Just as long as he’s still around, that’s enough._

Then again, she saw the way he looked at her, not even trying to hide it anymore; like she was something precious, something to be cherished. It sent shivers down her spine, made her breathe a little faster, long after he had looked away.

_Kristoff,_

_For someone who doesn’t know how to be friends with a princess, you’re doing an excellent job._

Olaf leaned over her shoulder. “What do you guys put in these letters, anyway?”

She snatched the paper away from his prying eyes. “Olaf! It’s not polite to read over people’s shoulders.”

“Being polite is boring. You should ask him to take you to the summer festival.”

“What’s that?”

The little boy rolled his eyes. “The summer festival, duh.”

She laughed and ruffled his hair. “I mean, well, what do you all do to celebrate it? When is it? In Arendelle, we just have a ceremony on the longest day of the year. We do more for the harvest season.”

“We do dancing and eat a lot of food and stuff. It’s in a few weeks, I think, but Grandpapa told me I have to go ahead and start deciding what stuff to bring from our garden. And I have to practice my dancing.” He wrinkled his nose. “I’m not a very good dancer. Last year Kris said I broke all eleven of his toes.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

Olaf nodded vigorously, mouth full once more thanks to his second cookie. Anna laughed and returned to her letter.

_But you have neglected to tell me about this summer festival, so thank goodness for Olaf keeping me in the loop. I insist you come up here straightaway and tell me more about it. I’ve never been to a village festival; I’d like to go if that would be alright._

_Yours,_

_Anna_

_PS-- you don’t really have to come straightaway, unless you want to, in which case I would be very pleased._

* * *

When they had first met, Anna had asked him why people from the mountains were so tall. Now it was Kristoff’s turn to wonder how someone could be so small and still be so full of life. Then again, maybe it did make sense; she was overflowing with it, with joy, with wonder, with a fearlessness that took his breath away.

He’d come as soon as possible, only delaying to ask for his grandfather’s approval to take Anna to the festival; as much as Anna had improved, beneath the surface was the constant fear that something might prove to be too much, and then--

He couldn’t bear thinking about it. Luckily, though, his grandfather had reassured him that, so long as she didn’t push herself too hard, Anna would be able to attend. Grandpapa had still looked at him with worry in his eyes, but even he had had to admit that Anna was doing better than they had dared to expect.

Kristoff was reminded of that now as he held her tiny hand in his own, carefully holding her fingers so she could practice twirling. Her eyes were alight with joy, and her flushed cheeks were round and pink, a far cry from the gaunt girl she had been when she first arrived. Her green dress didn’t hang so loosely off her shoulders anymore; instead, it fit the curve of her waist and flare of her hips so perfectly that Kristoff was having a hard time not staring.

“Okay, that one was perfect,” he said, grinning as she twirled under his arm and stood in front of him, awaiting his next instructions. “Now do that while we move.”

“These mountain dances are a lot trickier than what we do in Arendelle,” she complained, though her eyes were bright with mischief. “Haven’t you ever heard of a good old-fashioned waltz?”

“Afraid not,” he teased. “You’ll have to teach me that one next.”

He led her through the next steps of the dance, trying not to wince when she misstepped and landed on his toes. He realized after a while that it helped when he hummed the tunes, and before much longer she had mastered the dance, the one he knew would be most popular at the festival. “Let’s do it again, faster,” she exclaimed.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and she nodded furiously.

“Come on, let’s do it!”

And so they did, sweeping around the backyard of the cottage as if they were floating on air. This time, she didn’t step on his shoes even once.

“That was amazing, Anna, you-- are you alright?”

One of her hands was still in his, but the other was pressed flat against her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. She managed to nod weakly, her face suddenly white. Terrified, Kristoff guided her to sit down beside him on the grass.

He cupped her face in his palms. “You’re okay, Anna,” he said quietly, his thumbs softly caressing her cheekbones. 

She reached up, clinging to his wrists, her slim fingers cold against his skin. Her eyes were wide and frightened, but she held him steadily in her gaze. “I’m here,” he said, years of practice kicking in and helping him remain calm. “I’ve got you.”

Long minutes passed agonizingly slowly as they clung to each other; at last, the color returned to her cheeks, and she let out a heavy sigh, her eyelids drooping as she leaned forward, letting her forehead drop against the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, a sigh of relief escaping him. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, her breath warm against his collarbone. “Guess I’m pretty out of shape.”

He almost told her then, wanting to let her know it wasn’t her fault, but Elsa’s words came back to him: _the shock of it might kill her_. Just watching her go through this had been terrifying enough; he couldn’t imagine--

He shook his head emphatically, banishing the thought. “ _No_ , Anna, you’re just...you were pretty sick. And it’s okay to still be getting better. That dance wears me out, too.”

“You’re not the one who--”

“Don’t,” he said firmly. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay now.”

She nodded, just barely. “Maybe-- maybe no more dancing today. But...you don’t have to go home. Unless you want to.”

“I don’t want to.”

For a few minutes longer, they sat together on the grass, until the terror of the moment faded away in the sun, and she stood and took him by the hand and led him inside.

* * *

“Tea?” she asked, already putting the kettle on without waiting for an answer. Whether he wanted any or not, she needed some right then, not only to calm her shaking nerves but to give her a chance to collect herself. 

It bothered her sometimes that this was all she had to offer him or any other guests. In the castle, Elsa could greet every guest according to the fanfare they deserved, could meet their every need; entire banquets, ceremonies, parades could be thrown together in a day if she felt a particularly honored visitor deserved such a thing.

Kristoff deserved all of that and more, but all she could give him was yet another cup of tea. At least by now, she knew the way he liked it; three heaping spoonfuls of sugar, so sweet it was like drinking candy. She heard him come into the kitchen to stand behind her as she stirred, wrinkling her nose.

“I don’t know how you can stand to drink this,” she teased half-heartedly. “You’re worse than Olaf.” 

He accepted the mug gladly, blowing on it to cool it. “At least there’s actual _tea_ in mine. Don’t know why you bother putting the kettle on for him when he’s just having milk.”

“It’s part of the...the...hospitality,” she said, waving a hand. “Part of welcoming a guest. Plus it makes him feel grown-up.”

He was still looking at her with worry in those big brown eyes, so she plastered on a smile as she blew on her own tea. She hadn’t had an attack like that in months, not since last fall, when her horse had been spooked as she led it to its stable, and on instinct, she had chased after it. She’d collapsed halfway across the yard and been swarmed by guards and servants, all shouting for a doctor. Afterward, Elsa had made her stay in bed for two days, posting a guard at the door to make sure she didn’t try and sneak out. 

She’d welcomed the rest for the first day, but by the second she was itching to escape. Instead she’d been forced to visit with a stream of doctors, explaining to them over and over again what had happened, how it had felt, how she felt now, and how she must never dare to do such a thing again.

“Trust me, I didn’t exactly enjoy it,” she had snapped at one particularly stern man with a mustache that bounced in time with his finger as he lectured her. “Not trying to make it happen again.”

It had happened a few different times over the years, sometimes worse than others, usually when she had pushed herself too hard, tried to do a little too much. It would feel suddenly like something heavy was on her chest, like it was hard to catch her breath; by then it was too late to stop it, and she would have to ride out the waves of pain that crashed through her chest like blows from a hammer until they subsided, leaving her feeling winded and sore. She’d never found an answer for why it happened; the doctors always claimed she could do nothing but avoid exercise as much as possible. Elsa was no help, either; she simply told Anna some things couldn’t be explained and to get back to resting.

It was terrifying when it happened; sometimes she felt the edges of her vision fade and knew she was close to fainting. Once, when she was little, she had. That had almost happened today, but focusing on Kristoff’s eyes looking into hers, on his hands cradling her face, the comforting words he murmured-- all of it had kept her steady, helped her push through. 

That was what Elsa failed to understand; it didn’t matter that Kristoff was lowborn, that he was “just some man from the mountains”. He saw her in a way that no one else had before, knew what she needed sometimes when even she didn’t. 

She had dreaded coming back up to the mountain; now, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving.

Kristoff took a sip of tea and cleared his throat. “Um, you don’t have to dance at the festival. Just so you know. I mean, you were doing well. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I know. I’ll decide the day of. And next time, I’ll tell you if I start feeling winded.”

He simply nodded in return, and she felt a sudden great rush of affection for him, grateful that he left the choice of what to do in her hands. She wasn’t stupid; she knew trying to dance like that at the festival was a recipe for disaster, but still-- it was nice to not be treated like a useless fool for once.

She leaned back against the countertop. “Where did you learn to dance like that, anyway?”

“From my mom. It was one of the first things she started teaching me when she took me in. She knew it would make me feel like I belonged if I could jump right in with the others.”

Anna mulled this over for a minute, debating whether or not to ask the next questions that rose in her mind. “So you…”

“Yes, she adopted me. She died a few years back.”

She put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. She was lovely. I...I still remember her from the first time I was here.”

He smiled softly at her. “Thanks. Your, uh, your parents…”

“Yes, they passed away when I was younger. Which is why Elsa is queen. Obviously.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Anna looked down, rubbing the toe of her boot against the floor. “Let’s, uh, let’s talk about...nicer things. I don’t feel like making myself sad today.”

“Like what?”

“Like...well, now that I think about it, I don’t actually know that much about you,” she mused, tapping her fingers against her chin. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Green. Like the forest.”

“What’s your favorite season?”

“Spring.”

“Favorite food?”

“Anything.”

“Favorite…hmm...favorite story? Your mom used to tell me the best ones.”

“The one about the polar bear king.”

Anna tilted her head. “I don’t know if she ever told me that one.”

He grinned. “Want to hear it? It’s kind of long, you might want to sit down.”

She nodded excitedly, already making her way into the sitting room. Kristoff followed, his smile broadening when she curled up on the sofa, pulling the plaid blanket into her lap, and patted the space next to her. “But you have to tell me yours next,” he said solemnly. “Story for a story, those are the rules.”

“Shh. Story first, then rules.”

He laughed, sitting at the other end of the sofa. “Okay, okay. Once upon a time…”

* * *

“And then they see each other across the ballroom for the first time in forever, and their eyes meet, and they-- they--”

She yawned again, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Sitting on opposite ends of the sofa hadn’t lasted long; as he had told his story she had scooted closer and closer to him. He told himself it was just because she’d gotten invested in the story, but he couldn’t help but feel a little smug when after it had ended she was still pressed up against him. He had shifted so she could lay down and rest her head on his chest as she told her own story, and he’d spent the last several minutes fighting the temptation to stroke her hair, let the coppery strands run through his fingers, softer than silk.

“You can finish the story another night,” he said, and she mumbled something incoherent in response.

“What was that, sleepyhead?” he teased, but no response came; she was already asleep. 

He eased himself out from beneath her, carefully placing a pillow under her head. She nuzzled into it, and something in his chest warmed at the sight. He couldn’t help it; he leaned down and brushed a kiss against her temple. 

“Sweet dreams, Anna,” he murmured. “See you tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaa I hope there's enough fluff to make up for the angst last chapter and in this one!!! Next update we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming of just one perspective per chapter, but there was so much in this scene I wanted to show from both perspectives I couldn't help myself :)
> 
> Also, yes, Johanna, that's in there for you ;)


	11. dances

* * *

“You know, I’m starting to think I was born to be a professional gardener.”

Kristoff laughed. “How’d you decide that?”

“Just  _ look _ at how well they’re doing!” Anna enthused, waving her hand over the row of wavering green stalks. “I bet they’ll be taller than you by the time they’re done growing.”

“I don’t know about that.  _ Definitely _ taller than you, though,” he teased, and she stuck out her tongue. “Very intimidating. But be careful, I’ve heard your face can get stuck like that.”

“You’re just jealous of my natural green thumb,” she said loftily as he handed her a light wooden stake and a piece of twine. “Now...what am I supposed to do with this?”

He’d already explained it to her, and she knew she could have easily done it on her own, but that would have meant forgoing the opportunity to have Kristoff lean closer to her. She tried not to look too pleased with herself as he reached over, guiding her hands to place the stake a couple of inches away from one of the seedlings. He’d been away for the last few days, and she’d found herself missing the easy intimacy that had grown between them, the soft smiles and lingering touches that still made her feel dizzy in the best way.

“How was the trip?” she asked, attempting to replicate the knot he’d just demonstrated for her.

“Cold,” he said with a lopsided grin. 

“Well, I should certainly hope so, considering you were trying to harvest ice. Here-- is that right?”

He leaned down to examine her handiwork and nodded in approval. “Perfect.”

She reached out to run her fingers over the twine, now tied around both sunflower and stake just tightly enough to hold taut. “Why do we have to do this?”

“Thought you were a professional gardener.”

“I said I was  _ born _ to be one, not that I already  _ am _ one.”

He rolled his eyes, and she bumped her shoulder against his. “Your face can get stuck like that, you know.”

“Where’d you hear a dumb thing like that, huh?” he said with a wink. “Anyway, it helps support them, keeps them upright until they’re strong enough to stand on their own. No worrying about storms this time.”

She took another stake from the little pile. “That’s sad.”

“Hmm?”

“That they’re too weak to do it on their own.”

He shrugged, picking up a stake of his own. “Everybody needs help sometimes. Nothing wrong with that.”

They worked in companionable silence together for a while, until each little sunflower was carefully tied to a support. Anna sat back on her heels, admiring their work. “What do you think the stick gets out of it?” she asked absentmindedly.

“I think the stick probably just feels pretty lucky to get to be so close to something so beautiful.” 

She glanced up and found him looking at her, his eyes so gentle and warm she couldn’t help but lean over and press a quick kiss to his cheek. He was already blushing before she had pulled away. 

“I  _ knew _ you were secretly a big softie, Kristoff Bjorgman,” she teased.

“Yeah, well, don’t go telling everybody. I’ve got a reputation to protect, you know.”

He got to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. She accepted it gladly, using her other hand to brush her skirt clean. “I don’t know...I think the world has a right to know. I might just tell them all at the festival tomorrow night.”

His eyes grew wide in mock fear. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Just you wait and see.”

* * *

The letter trembled in her hands as she read it for the third time. She’d known immediately by the royal crest stamped in wax that it had been from Elsa, but she’d been expecting a friendly sisterly greeting, perhaps an update on the city, maybe even a request for advice; Anna had always been the more skilled diplomat of the two.

But this-- this, she had not expected.

_ Please respond as quickly as possible so we can move forward accordingly. _

_ Love, Elsa _

Anna knew the responsible thing to do would be to send off a quick “yes” or at least a “give me a few more days”; instead she folded up the letter as small as it could go and shoved it in the back of a drawer. She slammed it shut and walked back to the mirror, resuming the long and pitched battle she’d been waging with her hair when she’d been interrupted by the postman. 

Over the last few weeks, she’d been taking more and longer trips into town with Kristoff and his grandfather, who had finally admitted that fresh air and human contact were doing much more to improve her health than lying in bed all day like the wilted heroine of a melodrama. She’d even started making friends with some of the people she had met; at first they had been nervous around her, unsure what to expect from a royal visitor, but before long they had warmed to her, amused by her inquisitive nature and stories of life in the city. They had answered her questions patiently and even asked a few of their own; the younger girls, especially, seemed fascinated by every detail of palace life she could offer. 

She was grateful for the companionship they offered, and today in particular for a tangible representation of their friendship; Marieke, one of the girls she’d formed a fast bond with, had kindly loaned her a dress for the summer festival.

“I mean, I have regular dresses and slightly fancy dresses and  _ very _ fancy dresses, and if I needed to, I could send for one of those from the castle,” Anna had babbled, “but I don’t think any of them would be quite right, you know? I asked Kristoff, but he just shrugged and he said everyone would think I looked lovely no matter what I showed up in, which was really nice of him to say but he’s a  _ boy _ , and they don’t  _ understand _ these things, you know?”

Marieke had nodded sagely. “Don’t worry. You’re a bit shorter than me, but I think I’ve got an old dress still tucked away that you’re welcome to wear.”

Anna was overcome with another wave of gratitude towards the girl as she examined her reflection, nervously smoothing her palms over the deep blue fabric. It was a far cry from the sweeping gowns she’d worn to balls and festivals in the city; the skirt was only slightly flared, embroidered with a smattering of bright red flowers. It was worn over a loose-fitting, long-sleeved white shirt; a necessity in the mountains, where even in the summer evenings could be cool. 

But in all of their conversations, Anna had neglected to ask Marieke how she was meant to wear her hair. In a last-ditch attempt, she had braided the front half into a crown that encircled her head and was halfway through winding the back into a complicated bun when she heard a knock at the door-- Kristoff was early.

She flew down the stairs and flung open the door. “Thank god you’re here, because--  _ oh _ .”

She had seen him in heavy sweaters that smelled faintly of Sven, in worn work shirts he always wore with the sleeves rolled up, bundled up in the heavy outerwear he wore to harvest ice-- but tonight he was wearing a carefully pressed shirt under a blue vest that matched her own dress, and his hair was combed more neatly than she’d ever seen it, and he was holding his hat in his hands and looking at her as if he was having a hard time catching his breath, too, and she knew then that a part of her heart would never leave this mountain.

“You look beautiful,” he finally managed to say, his voice cracking slightly on the last word.

“I-- but my hair…” she said, gesturing vaguely at it. “I...I don’t know how I’m supposed to do it.”

He stepped closer to her. “The other girls, they usually wear it loose,” he said, his voice low, and something fluttered in the depths of her stomach as he reached towards her, his hand hovering over one of the braids that hung over her shoulder. “May I?”

She swallowed hard, barely managing to nod, and he gently unwound the braid, combing through it with his fingers. He stepped closer, carefully pulling out the pins that held it in place on top of her head, and she closed her eyes, inhaling his now-familiar scent of cedar and woodsmoke. He reached for a pin set behind her ear, his fingers barely skimming her jawline, and goosebumps broke out across her skin. When he was done, her hair hung in loose waves over her shoulders, with only one piece left braided in a crown.

“There,” he whispered. “Perfect.”

She swallowed hard. This “just friends” thing was getting more difficult by the minute.

* * *

Despite the array of now-familiar faces, Anna still felt nervous as Kristoff helped her down from the wagon. The town square was a hive of activity; women were carefully arranging their homemade masterpieces on long, wooden tables while men hauled over chairs, children weaving between them all with whoops of joy. A man holding a violin shouted for Kristoff, who turned to her with an apologetic smile.

“I have to go, uh...take care of something, okay? But Marieke is around here somewhere, and Olaf--”

“Here I am!” the boy shouted, launching himself towards Kristoff, who swung him up in the air with a laugh. “Anna, you’re gonna try the food I brought, right?”

“Of course,” she reassured him, hoping it wouldn’t turn out to be a lie.

“Don’t worry, Grandpapa helped so I didn’t get eggshells in it this time.”

Kristoff laughed. “Show Anna around while I go talk to Gothi, okay?”

Olaf didn’t need to be told twice; he grabbed her hand and began immediately dragging her around the festival, jabbering away about every detail and greeting every person he saw. Anna drank it all in, starry-eyed; it was so much more  _ vibrant _ than any of the stiff, distant galas thrown at the palace. Everyone here was  _ smiling _ , for one, but there was more to it than that; rather than competing for attention or scoping out the competition, people here were helping each other, complimenting each other, simply enjoying each other’s presence in a way that warmed her heart. She sighted Marieke and sent Olaf off to play with the other children as she made her way to her friend.

“Anna! I’m so glad that dress fits!”

“I can’t thank you enough,” she enthused, embracing the other girl. “You look  _ beautiful. _ I--”

She was interrupted by the sound of a stringed instrument warming up and turned to see the source of the noise. There was the man with the violin again, and a woman holding an accordion, and, to her surprise, Kristoff, who looked surprisingly at ease with a lute in his hands until his eyes landed on hers; he suddenly flushed pink and looked away. Marieke nudged her side. “He didn’t tell you, did he?” she asked with a grin.

“Not a word,” Anna responded, a smile unfurling on her own face as the tiny band began to play.

“Are you going to dance?” Marieke asked, tilting her head towards the rest of the crowd as everyone began to choose a partner.

Anna shook her head, grateful when her friend didn’t ask questions and simply squeezed her hand before bounding away into the crowd. She backed away slightly and sat down at one of the tables, feeling a little wistful as she watched the villagers skip and swirl around the square. As the music picked up, a clear, deep voice began to sing; she turned to see who it was and couldn’t help but let out a surprised little laugh.

“Look at you, still keeping secrets from me,” she said under her breath, eyes bright as she watched Kristoff sing. 

After a few songs he took a break, despite the cheers from the crowd, and began looking around. She knew he was looking for her, but she ducked her head, suddenly wanting to melt into the background. He had already been so kind to her, given so much of himself that she couldn’t bear the thought of him missing out on the rest of the festival to be relegated to the sidelines with her. 

After a few painful moments, the music started up again, and he accepted the proferred hand of a girl in a beautiful green dress, bowing slightly before raising their clasped hands to lead her into a twirl. Anna forced herself to look away, biting back a pang of jealousy. She had no claim to him, no matter how much she cared for him; even if she did, they both knew she would be leaving the mountain, most likely sooner rather than later. It was good to know that there were others here who would still care for him in her absence, others who could tease their way past his gruff exterior to make him laugh with abandon, who would listen to him on the rare occasions he opened his heart, who would dance with him until he smiled so broadly something cracked in her chest. 

“Hey, Anna?” 

She looked down in surprise to see Olaf sitting beside her. He offered her a glass of cider, and she accepted it gratefully. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Girls have cooties.”

“Well,  _ I  _ certainly don’t!” she said, pretending to be affronted.

“That’s different. You’re not a  _ girl _ girl.”

“I don’t even want to know what you mean by that.”

He waggled his eyebrows, and she laughed, feeling a little proud; she’d taught him that trick. “Anyway, I have a question for you.”

“Don’t you always?”

“Don’t change the subject!” he said sternly, and she mimed zipping her lips. He nodded solemnly and continued. “Anna, what’s it like to be in love?”

She nearly choked on a mouthful of her drink. “Why on earth would you think I’d know the answer to that? I’ve never been in love.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What are  _ you _ talking about?”

He huffed out a sigh. “You’ve been here for like an hour, and all you’ve done is stare at Kristoff.”

“I have not!”

“Have too! And he keeps looking at you, too.”

She glanced up for just a moment; to her surprise, the little boy was right. He smirked at her, triumphant. She let out a sigh. “Olaf, it’s not like that.”

“Then why do you guys make me take so many letters?”

She blushed, but luckily she was saved just then by Kristoff’s grandfather coming by. “It’s past your bedtime, young man,” he said sternly. “Tell the princess good night and come along.”

Olaf threw his arms around her and whispered, “Tell me tomorrow, okay? I’m gonna ask Kris, too.”

He was gone before she could formulate a response, and she found herself somehow breathless despite sitting still. Was that really how she felt? And, more importantly-- did Kristoff actually feel the same way?

She’d never been in love, had only read about it in books. She’d thought it happened more suddenly, like a crash of waves against the sand or a bolt of lightning striking a tree, certain and blatant and earth-shattering.

Now she had to wonder if maybe it was softer than that, gentler, like Kristoff himself was; if falling in love happened more like snow melting away to reveal the freshness of spring, slow and steady until all at once the world was bright and new, bursting with possibilities.

Her eyes found him again; he was leaning down to whisper something to the violinist, who clapped him on the back with a grin. And then his eyes were on her, and she was standing, floating towards him and feeling so light she was half-convinced this was a dream.

“May I have this dance?” he asked softly, his eyes bright and hopeful.

She bit her lip. “I-- you know that I…”

He shook his head. “I asked him to play something slow. And besides, you never did teach me how to waltz.”

She nodded, feeling like her heart might burst. He took her by the hand, leading her closer to the center of the square, and for a moment they just stood, waiting for the music to start. The slow strains of the violin began to float over the crowd, and then his other hand was on her waist, strong and warm and gentle and electrifying all at once, and Anna felt the last of her resistance crumble away.

“Follow me,” she whispered, taking a step backward as she began guiding him through the movements. He did, never taking his eyes off of hers, putting his trust in her as they moved as one. 

When the song ended, she started to pull away, but he only drew her closer, shaking his head slightly. “I-- I like dancing with you better than anyone else,” he admitted sheepishly. 

“But I don’t know all the steps to the dances. And I couldn’t do them, anyway.”

“I don’t care. I’m not ready to let you go.”

She squeezed his hand in hers. “Then don’t.”

* * *

Eventually, she had grown tired, and so they sat together on one of the benches, his arm going around her as she leaned against his shoulder, as if it were the most natural thing in the world-- and, she was beginning to realize, perhaps it was.

“This is way better than any party we have at the palace,” she said with a yawn. 

“Why is that?”

“No strange old men stepping on my toes, for one.”

Kristoff laughed. “It’s not much, but it’s ours,” he said proudly.

“I can’t wait to see what you do for the other seasons,” she said, another yawn escaping her. “I bet your Christmas party is one for the ages.”

He was quiet; she didn’t understand why for a moment until suddenly she did, and a sudden wave of melancholy crashed over her. Unsure of what to say, she reached down and clasped his free hand in both of her own, holding on tight.

They sat there for a long while, watching the festival wind down to the soft strains of a love song; Anna blinked, and when she opened her eyes again she was in the wagon, leaning against something solid.

“Kristoff?” she murmured sleepily, and he glanced down at her.

“Go back to sleep,” he said, and she nodded, eyes already sliding shut. 

She woke once more and found herself being cradled against Kristoff’s broad chest as he carried her upstairs. She sighed in contentment and felt his arms tighten slightly around her for just a moment before he deposited her on her bed. She reached up and caught his hand. “Don’t go,” she said, already falling asleep again, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead, his lips even softer than she’d imagined. 

“Good night, Anna,” he whispered as he closed the door, and she tumbled into dreams of strong arms and gentle hands and whispered pleas of  _ don’t go, don’t go, I love you, don’t go _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barely posting this in time to continue my streak of a chapter a day...whew, what a rush :')
> 
> Shout out to kristanna discord again for helping me decide what Kristoff smells like. This isn't quite as hot as reflective orange safety vests, but it'll have to do.


	12. moments

Kristoff had known going into this that this girl, this princess, would only be here for a few months, that even if she ended up being tolerable-- or as tolerable as someone from the city could be, anyway-- there was no point to forming a friendship with her. 

And then she had turned out to be Anna, and knowing things like that suddenly didn’t matter quite so much anymore. Instead, he found himself trying to come up with new adventures to take her on, new ways to make her laugh, new reasons to put his arms around her and hold her close. He’d teased her about how excited she was for the festival, telling her it was just a little old-fashioned thing, but in truth he’d lain awake at night for hours the night before the festival, worrying about how he could make sure the night was just as special for her as she had been hoping. If she was going to be going back and getting married in just a few more weeks-- well. He had to make the most of the time he had left.

Deeper than that, though, was the constant, painful reminder that it was  _ her _ time, too, that was precious; each hour he spent with her was a grain of sand slipping through an hourglass, falling one after another in a rush that left him exhilarated until he found himself at home at night, kept up by fears that still taunted him, still pulled at his thoughts in the light of day. He’d been so cautious with her last night as they danced, never taking his eyes off of her for fear that he would glance away for just a moment and look back to see her face white and drawn again, to hear the horrible sound of her fighting to catch her breath and know that inevitably, one day it would happen again, and he wouldn’t be there to help her through it-- that one day, there would  _ be _ no through, that it would end not with a sigh of relief but a terrible silence.

It had been next to impossible to let go of her the night before when he had laid her gently on her bed, and she had tugged at his hand and asked him to stay. He’d told himself she was just sleepy, not thinking straight, probably wouldn’t even remember it the next morning, and then he’d gone home and dreamed of her and the way she had shivered when he’d unbraided her hair and the way she had clasped his hand between her own, and he hadn’t stopped thinking about it all day. At last, his grandfather, frustrated by Kristoff’s obvious distraction, had stood in front of him, arms crossed, and insisted, “Should have listened to your elders, but it’s too late now.”

Kristoff had bowed his head, shamed, and Grandpapa had sighed, reaching up to pat him on the shoulder. “Well-- what’s done is done. Might as well go talk to her about it.”

“I-- you think that’s a good idea?”

The old man had shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So she’s engaged now. Plans change. I hear her parents married for love. Might as well find out what your chances look like.”

And so now he found himself walking up the hill, still trying to collect his thoughts; he’d left Sven and the wagon at home, knowing he’d need the long walk to figure out how, exactly, he was supposed to explain to a princess he was desperately, hopelessly in love with her, and was hoping that maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way.

He crested the hill, and his eyes landed on her immediately. She was lying on her back under the oak tree, and a sudden rush of fear crashed through him. “Anna?” he called, starting to run when she didn’t respond. “Anna!”

Just as he reached her, she stirred, pushing herself up on her elbows and blinking blearily as her eyes adjusted to the midday sunlight. “Kristoff? What’s wrong?”

“I-- nothing,” he said, suddenly sheepish as he stood over her.

She yawned, stretching her arms skyward as she sat up. “I was wondering if I would see you today.”

“Yeah, I just-- had to...um…”

She looked up at him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You don’t have to keep coming up with excuses to come visit me, Kristoff. I...Iike spending time with you.”

There was a nervousness to her expression now, and he found himself smiling. “I like spending time with you, too.”

“Really?” she asked, and he nodded, hesitantly sitting beside her on the blanket. 

She hadn’t been this nervous around him in weeks; she kept looking down at their hands, less than an inch apart, but made no move to touch him. Something in his veins was thrumming, an anticipatory excitement slowly building under his skin.

“What made you decide to come sleep on the grass?”

“Well, I didn’t  _ mean _ to fall asleep. I’m still just tired from last night.”

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked, and she nodded enthusiastically. 

“It was the most wonderful night I could have asked for,” she said, and he couldn’t help but place his hand over hers, a wave of affection washing over him. 

“Me, too,” he said, and she smiled back, turning her hand over and lacing their fingers together. “I think of all the summer festivals I’ve been to, that was the best.”

“And why was that?”

“The food, of course,” he teased, and she laughed, cheeks flushing pink. “But it didn’t hurt that the most beautiful girl there kept dancing with me even when I stepped on her toes.”

She nudged her knee against his. “It was only one time, and really that was my fault for leading you too close to the band.”

“Well, my point still stands.”

Anna looked away, suddenly too shy to meet his gaze. “You really think I was the prettiest girl there?”

“Without a doubt,” he said softly, and her blush deepened. “But anyway, you didn’t answer my question.”

“Which one?”

“About why you came out here.”

“Promise not to tease me.”

“Cross my heart, hope to--”

“No, don’t say that,” she said quickly. “Well-- I was...sort of thinking about the night we met.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “And I was curious about what it might have looked like from your perspective, and then I was wondering what you thought of me back then.”

Anna was looking at him again, in a way that was making his heart pound. “Well-- to be honest, I didn’t like you very much.”

She laughed at that and bumped her shoulder affectionately against his. “Really?”

“Really. But then I actually met you, and I decided I thought you were alright.”

For a moment she was quiet, clearly gathering her courage. He appreciated the pause, as he was doing the same. Finally, she took a deep breath and asked, “And what about now?” 

His eyes trailed down her face. She was biting her lip, and the sight of it sent a shiver down his spine. He met her gaze again, heart thundering in his chest, and leaned closer, enough that he could feel her sudden sharp intake of breath.

“May I?” he whispered, and she nodded, just barely.

He brushed his lips against hers, feather-light at first, and felt her smile against him. And then he kissed her again, at once both tender and urgent, and then again and again, committing to memory the softness of her mouth, the touch of her hand against his cheek as she drew him closer, the happy little sounds she made when he went along gladly. 

After a few moments-- or perhaps hours, or years, or lifetimes; it didn’t matter anymore-- he pulled away, drinking in the sight of her, all flushed cheeks and swollen lips and starry eyes, feeling something in him stir at the thought that she looked like that because of  _ him _ . 

“We should have done that a lot sooner,” she said, breathless. “Would have made the rainy days a lot less boring.”

“Guess we have to make up for lost time,” he responded, and then she was kissing him again, her arms around his neck as she straddled his lap. A groan escaped him as her tongue darted across his lower lip; he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against him, so close he thought he could feel her heart beating just as fast as his. There was nothing in the world that mattered but this, nothing but her mouth against his and the weight of her against him, and he would gladly spend the rest of his days here with her, under this tree, thinking of nothing but Anna, Anna and her blue eyes and quick smiles and little hands that were tangled in his hair.

At last, she pulled away, though she remained perched on his lap. She traced a finger over his lower lip with a faint smirk, proud of her handiwork, and he kissed it. When she smiled, he caught her wrist in his hand, pressing a kiss to the rest of her fingers as well, then her palm and the inside of her wrist, relishing the feel of her trembling against him.

“I’m afraid, Mr. Bjorgman, I’m going to have to insist that you do that again every day from now on. Twice on Tuesdays.”

“Is that a royal decree?”

“Yes, if that’s what it takes for you to kiss me like that again.”

“Well, if her majesty insists…”

* * *

Later--  _ much  _ later, when they had found themselves breathless and so dizzy that at last they had had to break apart, giddy with the promise that there was always-- or for now, at least-- tomorrow, they had pulled the blanket out from under the branches of the tree and were now lying side by side, hands tightly entwined as they gazed up at setting sun as it dipped beneath the mountain’s peak. Kristoff ran his thumb over hers and smiled when she squeezed his hand in response.

“This is even better than I thought it would be,” she said dreamily. “All those books and daydreams, and they still didn’t even come close.”

He turned to look at her and found her gaze was already on him. She smiled, sunshine in her hair and starlight in her eyes, and he pulled her into his arms and held on tight, knowing that all too soon he would have to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short(ish) and sweet :) Hope the burn was slow enough for you ;)


	13. waterfalls

Next to the windowsill in the upstairs room, only half-covered by a haphazard coat of paint, you could still make out the tiny gray lines, four uneven rows of them. Below them was a new set, neater this time, but though she had been here since April, Anna had only marked two lines.

She ran her fingers over them, a wobbly smile on her lips. The day Kristoff had taken her into town-- that was when she had stopped counting the days she spent in this cottage on the hill. And now July had turned to August, and she wished she had counted them somehow, saved them all up in her heart, so that she could return to them over and over again, each day she had spent with him more precious than anything Arendelle could offer her.

Elsa had sent another letter today. Her sister was growing impatient. Anna couldn’t blame her, but she also couldn’t bring herself to send a response. She still didn’t have one.

Feeling a sudden burst of frustration, she rose to her feet again and strode over to the little writing desk in the corner of her room where the letter awaited, taunting her. She read it again, the now-constant feeling of dread pulling more strongly at her heart with every word.

_ Anna, _

_ We are receiving still more warnings that this winter will be particularly harsh. The prince is now planning to arrive by the first week of September so that the two of you can return to the Southern Isles before the first snowstorms arrive. _

_ As I have repeatedly assured you, I will not force you to go through with this, but I beg of you to think about this rationally. There are far less tolerable matches to be made, and this marriage will serve to strengthen Arendelle in a time when we need it most. _

_ You cannot ignore this forever, Anna. I need to know your answer so that I can make the proper arrangements either way. Will you marry Prince Hans or not? _

_ I await your response. _

_ Yours, _

_ Elsa _

Anna pulled out a piece of paper and snatched up her pen, her heart suddenly pounding as, overcome by a wave of certainty, she began to scribble out her response.

_ Elsa, _

_ I regret to inform you that I will not be marrying Prince Hans. Please send my apologies to the royal family. I will be happy to assist you in repairing diplomatic relations between our two kingdoms. _

_ However, after doing that, I will be leaving Arendelle again and coming back to the mountains, as I have fallen in love with Mr. Bjorgman and have no desire to ever leave here again. Even if he is just some man from the mountains, he makes me happier than anything in the castle ever has. Also, he is a wonderful kisser. So there. _

_ Yours, _

_ Anna _

Her heart was still thudding in her chest as she stared down at the ink-splotched letter she had just written, wondering if she actually dared to send it to her sister, until the words blurred before her and tears rolled down her cheeks. She crossed her arms on the desk and buried her face in them, weeping for the loss of a future she didn’t feel brave enough to claim as her own.

* * *

The next morning when Kristoff knocked at her door, both letters were reduced to ash inside the oven; she couldn’t stand to look at either of them anymore. She had been waiting impatiently at the window all morning; he had been gone on another ice harvesting trip most of the week. Last night just as she had changed into her nightgown, she’d heard a pebble bounce off her window and looked out to see him grinning up at her, exhausted and still in his work clothes. She had flown downstairs and flung herself at him; he’d caught her by the waist and spun her around, leaving her breathless even before he had kissed her.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” he had said with that lopsided smile she adored. “And sorry I’m still dirty, it’s just-- I got back and had to come straight here. I couldn’t wait to see you.”

He had left her with a lingering kiss and a promise that today he would take her somewhere new. It wasn’t so much the adventure she cared about; she would have been more than content to spend the day with him in their little garden, among the sunflowers that were just on the cusp of blooming, talking of nothing and kissing like it was everything.

But he looked so excited she couldn’t help but smile in return, taking his hand as she stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Where are we off to?” she asked.

“I can’t just  _ tell  _ you, that’ll ruin the surprise!”

He led her the same way they had gone to the little clearing in the woods; they had returned several times since, and the way was now familiar to her, but this time he walked past the turn and led her on a slightly uphill path. She had been quiet for most of the walk, never letting go of his hand, and he glanced back at her.

“Are you okay?”

Anna only nodded. He stopped then, concern in his eyes, and placed his free hand on her cheek. She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. 

“Anna, tell me what’s wrong,” he said softly, and she shook her head, squeezing her eyes more tightly shut.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just-- I missed you the last few days, that’s all. So I’m just focusing on you being here with me right now.”

He pulled her close to him then, and she buried her face in his chest, focusing on its steady rise and fall against her cheek. 

“I missed you, too,” he said, and she clung a little tighter to him. 

They stood there for a while, neither of them sure what to say next. They had known since she had come to the mountain that by the time autumn came, she would be leaving for good. Now, something had irrevocably, perhaps inevitably, shifted between them, and neither was sure where they stood, always tiptoeing around the whens and what-ifs. She loved him; of that much she was sure, but she didn’t know if he felt the same way. At last, she pulled back from him, taking his hand once more, and managed a firm nod.

“Come on, then,” she said softly. “You promised me an adventure.”

They walked a while longer, still holding on tight to each other, until Anna could hear the trickling of water. Curious, she looked up at Kristoff and saw him smiling.

“Bet you haven’t got anything like this in the city,” he said, and let her past a small thicket to the edge of a lake, this one much larger and deeper than the pond he had shown her before. At the north end was a waterfall, at least twenty feet tall, and Anna felt a thrill of excitement at the sound of it thundering against the surface of the water.

“It’s amazing,” she said, already feeling some of her earlier despair melting away. “We do have one on the outside of town, but I don’t think anyone actually likes to swim around it. Too rocky.”

Kristoff sucked in a sharp breath. “I-- you want to swim here? Really?”

She cocked her head, mischief in her eyes. “Well, we're already partway through August. This is about the hottest it gets, isn’t it?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes wide.

“Well, then,” she continued, already beginning to pull at the fastenings of her dress, “sounds like perfect swimming weather to me, don’t you think?”

She was glad that here she didn’t have to bother with the layers of gowns and undergowns and corsets; she slipped out of her sundress and kicked off her shoes, standing before him in her sleeveless chemise. He stared at her, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. Anna had to admit to feeling more than a bit nervous, too. Still, she collected herself and reached out to tug at the hem of his shirt.

“Your turn,” she said quietly, and he had it off in moments. 

It was her turn to stand breathless; she had leaned against that broad chest, been held by those strong arms more times than she could count, but seeing him stand bare before her made something tremble inside her, like a string on a lute that had just been plucked and was left humming. She reached out, tracing her fingers down the plane of his chest, the hard muscle of his abdomen, and felt him shiver against her. Her hand moved to his arm, skimming up and over the smooth skin to land on the tip of his shoulder, perching there as she looked up at him with a smile.

“You have freckles here, too,” she whispered, and he leaned down then, surging against her and seizing her mouth in a deep, open-mouthed kiss. She looped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and felt his hands clutching at the fabric of her chemise. She had thought she had learned everything there was to know about kissing over the last few weeks, but this was something new, something raw and heated and exhilarating, and she pulled away with a sigh, feeling almost lightheaded. 

Kristoff clearly felt the same way, eyes glazed with longing, but she knew that continuing down this path would only make the inevitable that much harder, and so she pulled away from him with a teasing laugh, darting towards the waterfall.

“Race you to the top!” she called, scrambling towards the rocks.

He followed after her, laughing as he struggled to pull off his boots. “Jesus, Anna, be careful!”

He caught up to her with ease, and she stuck out her tongue. “No fair. You have longer legs than me.”

“So you  _ don’t _ want help getting up to the top?” he teased, tilting his head towards the last stretch.

She bit her lip; the run over here had left her feeling a bit winded, and though the first few rocks resembled a staircase, she knew that if she tried to summit the rest alone she’d find herself dangerously close to having another attack. Kristoff, knowing she wouldn’t want to admit it aloud, knelt down, cupping his hands together. “Step here,” he instructed, “and I’ll lift you up. Just grab on up there, see?”

“Can you really lift me that easy?”

He winked at her. “Guess we’ll find out, huh?”

She stepped carefully, worried she might hurt him, but then he lifted her with such ease she nearly fell from surprise. He held her steady, and she grabbed on to the ledge, able to pull herself up without much struggle. She perched there, holding out a hand to help Kristoff, and he took it, though it quickly became clear that he did so only to make her feel better as he easily scaled the rest of the rocks.

When he was sitting beside her, Anna reached over and squeezed his bicep. “You’re even stronger than you look, huh?”

He turned red then, and her toes curled when she saw that his flush extended all the way down to the top of his chest. “Just, uh...you know. I pick up lots of ice.”

She leaned over and kissed him soundly, but before they could get lost in the moment again, she scrambled to her feet, peering over the edge. 

“Want to jump in with me?” she asked, already feeling a rush of adrenalin course through her veins. 

Kristoff’s eyes widened. “From up  _ here _ ?”

“Well, yeah. Why do you think I climbed all the way up here?”

He gulped, eyes wide as he stared at the water below, and she took his hand. “You don’t have to. But we can jump together if you want.”

His eyes met hers; she squeezed his hand, and they softened. “On three?” he asked.

She nodded. “One….two...three!”

They took a running leap together, and a thrilled scream tore from her throat as they plummeted towards the surface of the lake. The water was colder than she expected, and she surfaced with a gasp, her hair hanging in her face. Kristoff laughed and brushed it aside for her, his own hair sending rivulets of water running down his face.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Anna said, heart still pounding.

“No, it wasn’t. Not since I was doing it with you.”

She couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him again as they treaded water there together, hoping he could taste on the tip of her tongue the words she still didn’t dare to say.

* * *

They made it back to the cottage just after sunset; too deliciously exhausted to bother with cooking or setting the table, they made sandwiches and ate them on the sofa together, Kristoff sitting on one end and Anna sprawled out, her back against his shoulder. Just as she had set her plate aside and snuggled closer against him, a knock came at the door.

She frowned and got to her feet. “Do you think it’s Olaf? Maybe he’s bringing us something from the garden.”

The knock came again, more insistent this time, and she headed towards the door, wishing they hadn’t already closed the curtains so she could get a peek at who it was without alerting them.

Her hand hesitated over the knob, a sudden feeling of dread coursing through her, but then the knocking came again, and she yanked it open.

Her heart plummeted. Elsa stood there, face carefully composed, but her eyes were furious. “So you _ are _ still here. You’ve been ignoring my letters so long I thought perhaps you’d moved away.”

Kristoff came to stand beside her then, and she felt a sudden rush of pride; she had finally gotten him to admit what her sister had said to him the last time and knew he had to feel just as nervous as she did, if not more so. Elsa, however, was entirely unrepentant, her eyes flicking towards him for only a moment, as if he were nothing more than a fly buzzing around the room. 

“And Mr. Bjorgman is here as well,” she said coolly. “I suppose that’s why you haven’t responded.”

“I didn’t respond because I didn’t know what to say,” Anna snapped. 

“It’s an easy enough question, Anna. Yes or no?”

“It is  _ not _ .”

Elsa crossed her arms. “Regardless, our time is running short. Their ship is ahead of schedule. The prince will be here within three days. I do not intend to return to Arendelle until I have an answer from you.”

She turned her gaze to Kristoff, her eyes only growing colder. “Has she told you any of this? I assume you are partly to blame for the delay.”

“Told me what?” he asked, his voice hard.

“That her wedding is being moved up. Prince Hans does not wish to face the winter sea and so has come to collect his bride. I thought perhaps Anna would wish to back out of the arrangement, but now it seems that maybe she wasn’t so certain of where her affections lie after all.”

It was Anna’s turn to feel furious. “Don’t talk to him like that!”

Kristoff had stilled beside her. She didn’t dare look at him.

“I’ve secured lodgings in the village,” Elsa went on, thoroughly unbothered as she turned to go. “I suggest you consider this decision with the care it deserves.”

Kristoff followed after her, but Anna couldn’t bear to go with him. She mounted the stairs, tears already coursing down her cheeks, and slammed the door to her room shut. All the months she had spent here, kept in this room, and she had never felt so trapped, so suffocated. Air-- she needed air. She flung open the window and began to lean out to gasp for breath, but froze when she heard Elsa and Kristoff arguing below, trying and failing to keep their voices hushed.

“This is her decision, not yours,” Elsa snapped.

“I  _ know _ that, but she can’t really make it if she doesn’t know everything!”

“What, you think she’s more likely to stay if she does?”

“ _ No! _ But if she doesn’t know, she might keep trying to stall, or--”

“So it is that, then? You want to know whether she loves you back or not, and so you want to frighten her into giving you an answer?”

“She’s tougher than you think she is.”

“How would you know? I’ve known her my whole life. She’s my  _ sister _ . What is she to you?”

“This isn’t about  _ me _ , it’s--”

“But it  _ is _ , Mr. Bjorgman, you and--”

“No, this isn’t about you  _ or _ me. It’s about  _ Anna _ . Think about her for once instead of how scared you are about yourself or--”

“How dare you!”

“How can you expect her to make a choice about the rest of her life when she doesn’t even know she’s dying?”

Anna gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, and they both looked up at her then, eyes wide in the light of the full moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit's getting real, y'all :'( Say goodbye to the fluffy times (for now at least....maybe someday we'll see them again)
> 
> I did cut a few cute things from this chapter that may make an appearance as one-shots/drabbles still in this verse; the fic will be shorter because of the cuts, but hopefully will flow better because of them. We'll see :)


	14. the truth

Olaf had asked him a while ago what it felt like to be in love. Kristoff had shrugged, not yet sure of the answer himself. “I guess you know when it happens. I don’t know.”

Now he knew; it felt like a sleepy head nestled on his shoulder, like knees brushing together under a blanket, like little fingers trailing over his cheeks and counting the freckles. It was the sunlight on his shoulders as he helped her tend to the sunflowers, the rain soaking his shirt as he sheltered her from a summer storm, the breeze in his hair as he held her under the spreading branches of the oak tree. It was the ache in his chest every time he had to leave for a few days and the stars in her eyes when he caught her in his arms once again; it was kisses on his cheek and the top of her head and the tips of her fingers and the side of his neck, kisses that tasted like sweet tea and unspoken promises, and it was Anna, always Anna, this whirlwind of a girl who had taken his hand and offered him a chance to tag along, and it was fooling himself into thinking that this would ever do anything but end.

He saw her in the window, the little red-haired girl with tears streaming down her face, and he knew that this was how he lost her.

* * *

They were both rushing through the door when she came downstairs, knees wobbling beneath her. She could feel her heart pounding like a prisoner beating against the bars and reached up to clutch at her chest. Elsa darted towards her, hands outstretched, but Anna jerked away, teeth bared.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, her voice low and angry, and Elsa drew back, looking like she was going to be sick.

She turned to Kristoff. He stiffened under her gaze, but his eyes met hers, warm and brown and afraid, just as they had been when they had danced in the grass and she had nearly collapsed. 

“Have you known the whole time?”

He nodded once, slowly, and something in her crumbled. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then forged on. There would be time enough to weep later; for now, she needed answers. “What did you mean, that I’m dying?”

“I don’t understand it all, exactly,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice, “but they told me when you came that it was something with your heart.”

“You’re not _dying_ ,” Elsa said quickly, cutting in. “Mr. Bjorgman is--”

Anna turned to her, eyes hard. “And how long have _you_ known?”

Elsa was silent again. Anna narrowed her eyes. “Get out.” 

Neither of them moved. Anna felt her hands curling into fists. “I said _get out._ Both of you.”

Kristoff took a step backwards, not taking his eyes off of her, silently pleading. She wanted to run to him, to let him hold her and comfort her and make it alright; she wanted to scream at him, beat her fists against his chest and curse him for keeping this from her. Instead, she stood rooted to the spot, fighting to keep her breath steady.

Elsa tried again. “Anna, I can explain--”

“I don’t care.”

“But you need--”

“ _I_ know what I need.”

She turned away from them both, crossing her arms, and waited until she heard the door close behind them before she allowed the tears to fall.

* * *

She didn’t sleep the whole night. She alternated between weeping and pacing around the cottage in a rage, heart pounding with fury. After a while she found herself exhausted, but her mind was still racing; all her life had been plagued with questions, with confusion-- if being kept in a cage could even be called a life at all. It made sense, at last, all the days she’d been kept inside, all the worried looks from her parents, all the agony she had felt when she had pushed herself too hard and found herself crumpling to the floor. She had an answer, now, but it wasn’t enough; she had to know the details, had to know how much time, exactly, she had left, and above all-- why no one had ever told her the truth.

She wasn’t sure what hurt worse; her sister’s betrayal or Kristoff’s. Elsa had always been so distant, had made herself so hard to love sometimes. Perhaps this was the reason why-- perhaps she had wanted to avoid feeling this grief, this anger. But Kristoff-- she couldn’t understand it, how he could have held her and kissed her and never once told her that she was going to die. 

Anna sank down onto the sofa, burying her face in her hands as it hit her-- she would have done the same. She was angry with him still, but she understood, or at least was starting to. Perhaps this was what love was: knowing that the best intentions sometimes led to the deepest pain, that love and pain and grief were all inextricably intertwined, that there would be no happy ever after to make this all right.

As the first rays of sunlight gleamed through the window, she got to her feet, squaring her shoulders and marching out the door. The sunrise was beautiful, painting the world in shades of pink and gold. She hesitated, then went around to the back of the house as had become her habit. 

The first of their sunflowers had bloomed. She almost fell to her knees there, giving over to the weeping again, but instead she squared her shoulders and turned to go. 

The walk into the village had become familiar to her now; she recognized each tree, each sweep of wildflowers, but still she drank in the view, memorizing it, knowing she would lean heavily on these memories when winter came and she found herself oceans away. It was easier than she thought, going those two miles, and with a pang she realized she had Kristoff to thank for that. The girl who had come to the mountains would have struggled to walk down the hill without losing her breath; the woman who was leaving them was able to do more, much more, than it seemed anyone had dreamed possible. By the time she reached the square, a dull ache was tugging at her chest; she knew she would have to stop before an attack came on, but she couldn’t help feeling a glimmer of pride, all the same.

No one was awake yet, and she realized suddenly that she wasn’t sure which house to go to. She wandered for a while, down even unfamiliar streets, and found the little house at last. Kristoff’s grandfather was in the garden, yawning as he watered the tomatoes. He heard her approach and looked up in surprise, eyes wide when he realized who it was.

“Anna? What are you doing here? What’s wrong.”

 _Where to begin_? she thought darkly. “I heard Kristoff and my sister arguing last night. About telling me something important.”

“Ah.”

“Because Elsa wants me to go back with her tomorrow. So I can get married. And Kristoff didn’t want me to go without knowing that I’m dying.”

The old man recoiled, as if her words had been a stone. “Ah-- and so…”

“I need to know.”

“I suppose you do.”

He led her indoors, gesturing for her to sit at the kitchen table. She did so, tapping her fingers against the wood impatiently. He was quiet for a moment, unsure, but Anna was running out of time. “Tell me the truth. All of it.”

He sighed. “I was not there, not at the beginning. But your parents told me it was your sister who first caught the fever. They told me you could not be dissuaded from trying to visit her in her sickbed.”

Anna nodded slightly. “I remember that-- just barely. I was so worried for her.”

“So was everyone,” the old man said with a kind smile. “Because she was the heir to the throne, all eyes were on her. They failed to notice when you started to display the same symptoms. Because of the delay, and because you were so young, it was much more serious in your case. They thought then that they might lose you. But then you recovered-- for a time.”

He reached over the table and took her hands in his. “That was when they brought you to me. You had been well for just over a week and suddenly were struck with the same symptoms. They treated you in the castle as they had been, but something was clearly wrong; you kept declining. The city’s physicians were at a loss. I believe the goal was twofold: to see if perhaps traditional ways in combination with modern medicine might help...and to keep your sister safe as well.

“It was-- difficult, to say the least. Even once you began to make a recovery, you were so lonely, so frightened. A child your age couldn’t truly understand. I suppose that’s when it all started; they didn’t even want you to know you had been so sick. 

“My daughter, God rest her soul, was such a great help. I think without her we might have lost you then. But even so...once the initial fever had passed, you still weren’t improving as you should have. I had seen it before, and I knew what it meant. I told your parents my suspicions before sending you back home, and when your sister brought you back this spring, I learned I had been correct.”

He looked at her then, sorrow in his eyes. “The fever you had the second time-- it damaged your heart. Irreparably. Eventually, it will fail. Each time it’s put under stress, there’s a chance for further damage, or…”

He trailed off, looking away again. “I’m sorry, Anna. It’s....difficult news, even under less...complicated circumstances.”

She squeezed his hands and pulled away. Unconsciously, her hand went to her chest. “My parents...Elsa...they always told me that it wasn’t something they had an answer for, just to be careful. All those times when I pushed myself a little too far...I didn’t know what was wrong with me. It just hurt so _much_.”

For a minute, she sat in silence, collecting her thoughts. Years of unanswered questions, of fears and doubts, all of it suddenly was falling into place at once. She closed her eyes, unsure if she wanted the answer to her next question.

“Why didn’t they ever tell me?”

He was quiet for a long moment. “I can only speak for what I observed; I cannot know their minds. But...at first, because you were so young; they didn’t want to frighten you. And then they saw how much weaker you were, how prone you were to those attacks, and I believe it frightened them too badly to even consider bringing it up. They worried that, as time went on, the shock of it might be enough to kill you. That’s what your sister told us when she brought you back to the mountains.”

Her eyes flew open. “So Kristoff thought…”

“I cannot speak to what he thought. But I do not believe he would have kept the secret from you if he had felt he had a choice.”

Anna stood then. “I-- think I need to talk to him. And my sister, perhaps. But--” She swallowed hard. “Am I...dying? Do you know how much time I have?”

He smiled gently at her. “I cannot say for certain. If you remain in good health, if you do not put yourself under undue strain, you have many good years ahead of you.”

“But if I get sick…if something happens…”

He bowed his head. “I wish I could tell you it would be alright.”

“What would you do, if you were me? If you knew this now, and you knew-- you knew what was waiting for you at home, and what was here…”

He smiled fondly at her. “You are your own person, Anna. You must do what you think is right in your own heart.”

She inclined her head. “Thank you....for everything. I have one last request.”

“Of course.”

“Will you show me the way to where he lives?”

* * *

Kristoff hadn’t slept. He’d come home, taken care of Sven, and sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands. He’d paced; he’d stood out by the stable; he’d sat again; he’d started walking towards the cottage and turned back before he even reached the village square.

He was pacing again when the knock came. “Come in,” he called, his voice hoarse, expecting it to be his grandfather or Olaf.

His back was to the door, but he recognized those quiet footsteps. He spun, eyes wide, and saw her there, looking as exhausted as he felt.

“Anna,” he choked out, starting towards her, reaching for her out of habit; then he froze, arms dropping limply to his side. 

She took a step closer, and then another; she had never seemed so small, so fragile as she did now, looking at him with shadows under her eyes and questions in them. At last she stood in front of him, chin tilted up so she could meet his gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to. I-- before last night, I’d asked my grandfather, even written your sister, telling them I thought you deserved to know.”

“But you could have said something, even without their permission.”

Kristoff drew in a shuddering breath. “I know. I just...they told me it might kill you. And I couldn’t be the one to...to do that to you. And then you were doing so much _better_ , you hadn’t had an attack again, you had so much energy...I started to think that maybe they were wrong. Maybe it could be fixed. I...I’m so sorry. You have every right to--”

“Don’t,” she whispered, sliding her hand into his. He squeezed it, grateful. “I forgive you. I...I think I would have done the same. And...I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Elsa’s letters and the wedding and...all of it.”

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Just...no more secrets.”

“No more secrets,” she agreed.

For a few moments, they stood silently, not meeting each other’s gaze. Kristoff cleared his throat. “I, uh...I’d tell you we could sit down and maybe talk some more, but there’s only the one chair. It’s just me here, usually, and I’m usually out doing something anyway, so it’s just...the kitchen table and the bed.”

“The bed is okay.”

He blinked down at her, stunned, and she cracked a small smile. “You look like you could use a nap, anyway,” she teased. 

He led her into the bedroom and sat shyly on the edge of the bed. Anna perched next to him, already leaning her head on his shoulder as she had done so many times before, but this time he needed to hold her as close as possible, needed to feel her close to his chest and know that there she would be safe, at least for a little while. He pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around her, and she went along gladly, nestling her face against his neck.

Kristoff rested his forehead against the top of her head, inhaling her scent of black tea and cinnamon. Her breath was warm against his collarbone, centering him, reminding him that for now, at least, she was here with him, she was _alive_. There was no going back from what she had learned, from what had happened, but maybe-- maybe, by some miracle, they could move on from this together. If he told her again how sorry he was, how much he loved her, how much he wanted her to stay--

“Kristoff?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I have to go back with Elsa.”

There was a roaring in his ears, a blinding pain in his chest as if he had fallen from a great height and hit the ground hard. _Stay with me, I love you, please_ , he wanted to beg; he closed his eyes tight. “Okay. If that’s what you think is the right thing to do.”

“I-- I do.”

She was weeping now, making little snuffly noises as her tears soaked through the collar of his shirt. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, reaching up to brush some of them away with the pad of his thumb, fighting to hold back his own tears.

“I just-- Arendelle needs me. Elsa needs me. And I...I want to do something with my life, want to have done _something_ to help people if I can, if I’m-- if--”

He was almost glad she couldn’t continue; he didn’t think he could stand to hear her say it out loud. Already the ache of losing her to Arendelle, to her duty, was leaving him breathless; the thought of losing her altogether, of living in a world without her, would ruin him. He wanted to plead with her, to get down on his knees and beg her to stay with him, love him, let him hold her like this every day for the rest of his life. He would follow her to Arendelle, across the seas to the Southern Isles, across the whole world to stay by her side if only she asked him to.

But she didn’t, and so instead he held her, stroking her hair and murmuring words of comfort, until at last her sobs subsided and she sat silently in his arms, one hand pressed to his chest, just over his heart.

“I need to tell Elsa,” she said at last, and he nodded, already dreading the feeling of emptiness that would come when she pulled away. “But I’ll come back. I-- we won’t leave until tomorrow morning. We still have today. If-- if you want to spend it together, I mean.”

 _I love you_ , he wanted to tell her. _Today and all my tomorrows are yours if you want them._

Instead, he nodded. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(


	15. goodbyes

After Anna left, Kristoff found himself grabbing a hammer and nails, desperate to do something,  _ anything _ , that might help him clear his mind, take at least some of the pressure off of his heart. He set to repairing the fence, straightening the shutters, covering a crack in the wall of Sven’s little stable, trying to force himself to stay in this moment, not thinking of the days and months and years to come.

_ Probably not years _ , he thought, grief filling him, and yelped as he swung the hammer wide and landed it on his thumb. He backed away from the wall, shaking his hand and cursing under his breath. He found himself face to face with Sven, whose eyes seemed somehow filled with concern. Kristoff stared back at him, feeling suddenly drained. “She’s leaving, Sven.”

The reindeer huffed, and he shook his head. “No, I don’t think she will. Not this time.”

He went back indoors, aching in a million ways; all that work had done was leave him sweaty-- he’d have to change before Anna got back.  _ Otherwise she might just up and leave a day early _ , he thought darkly. He had just pulled his shirt off when he heard the door creak open. “Couldn’t bother to knock?” he called half-heartedly over his shoulder.

“No,” came Anna’s soft voice, and then her arms were around him, her little hands snaking over his bare skin to pull him into a tight embrace. She pressed a soft kiss to his spine, then another, rising on her toes until she could kiss him just at the base of his neck. He turned to face her then and found in her eyes the same fire he felt rising in his chest. Gently, he placed his fingers under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his in a heated kiss. Anna sighed and melted against him, her hands skimming up his torso before reaching to tangle in his hair. He swept her up into his arms then, not breaking the kiss as he carried her to the bed, a man drowning and thanking the same tide that had swept him away.

After, they laid facing each other, Anna using his arm as a pillow as he traced lazy circles over the smooth skin of her hip.

“I love you,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“I love you, too,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers.

“But I still have to leave.”

Kristoff kissed her softly, once, twice. “I always knew you would.”

* * *

It had begun storming in the night, great gusts of wind and spatters of rain buffeting the little house, but it didn’t matter; they would have slept fitfully anyway. Anna was awake again now, watching the light change on Kristoff’s sleeping face as the sun rose sluggishly in the window behind her. Even in sleep, there was a worried line between his eyebrows, and she loathed herself for putting it there. She reached over to stroke his hair, brushing it softly away from his temple. The frown disappeared after a moment, replaced by a faint smile as his eyes opened, the brown even richer than usual in the morning sunlight.

“Hi,” Anna whispered, a fragile smile appearing on her own face.

“Good morning,” he said, shifting closer to kiss her. For a moment her eyelids fluttered shut as she let herself sink into it, let herself pretend that this was the first of many mornings together full of sleepy kisses and kept promises.

She opened her eyes. “I told Elsa I would meet her at nine,” she said, though she still didn’t move.

Kristoff nodded. “We’d better hurry.”

She didn’t want to; she wanted to linger here for the rest of her life and then some. Instead she slid out of bed and picked her dress up from where he had discarded it the night before, pulling it on over her head. She heard a creak from the bed behind her, and then Kristoff’s hands were on the row of buttons up the back, gently fastening each one for her.

“Thank you,” Anna murmured when he finished, turning around and kissing his cheek. 

He dressed quickly as she brushed her hair, not bothering to braid it. She glanced out the window. “Looks like it’s still raining.”

Kristoff looked as well, then went to the wardrobe and pulled out a carefully folded sweater, the same one he’d worn that day he’d found her weeping in the storm. “Here,” he said, offering it to her. 

“Kristoff, you--”

“If I can’t be there to make sure you’re warm,” he said, his eyes steady though his voice wasn’t, “then I want you to at least have this.”

She pulled it on then without further protest, not caring that it hung nearly to her knees and entirely swallowed her hands. She wished it wasn’t clean, wished it still carried the smell of him, cedar and smoke and cups of tea with three sugars. Teary-eyed, she looked up at him. “Are you going to be okay?”

He smiled and drew her close to him, brushing away the tears with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t worry about me.”

There was everything left to say, but they were running out of time. They walked hand in hand towards the road leading out of the village where Anna had agreed to meet Elsa. As they approached the carriage, Kristoff started to pull away, nervous about what the queen might say, but Anna only held on to him tighter. 

“Let her be angry,” she said. “I’m angry, too.”

She thought she saw a flash of pride in Kristoff’s face. He squeezed her hand, grateful for a few more stolen moments, as they walked up to the carriage. 

Elsa stepped out from behind it, but when her gaze landed on their joined hands, it wasn’t exactly anger that Anna saw in her eyes. “Mr. Bjorgman. I was wondering if I would see you again today.”

He inclined his head, offering no other response. Elsa eyed him for a moment before returning the gesture. “Thank you, again, for...taking care of my sister. She looks better than she has in years. Anna, are you ready?”

She wasn’t; she never would be. She turned to Kristoff, panic suddenly making her heart pound. “Kristoff-- I-- please, do me one last favor.”

“Anything,” he said, and she knew he meant it.

“Tell me about your happy ever after. I-- I want that to be my last memory of you, something so I can think of you and know you’re okay.”

He stared at her, looking gutted. “Anna…”

“Please.”

The driver was coming around, opening the door to the carriage and motioning for Anna to climb in. He began to offer her a hand, but Kristoff waved him away. Anna took his hand instead, clinging to it, and let him help her up for the last time. “Kristoff…”

He kept his eyes on hers, still trying to reassure her even as he gently shook his head no. She knew then that his answer would be the same as hers, that it had nothing to do with gardens or mountains or puppies or castles, that it was just one word:  _ stay _ .

“I love you,” he whispered instead, and he closed the door.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okaaay, y'all wore me down and I made this a little sweeter than I had planned it to be :') Short and bittersweet; I wanted to just focus on what was happening instead of all the whys. Trust me, you'll get more insight into their reasoning later if you want to feel some more knives in your heart :')
> 
> thanks for reading as always! Your comments/kudos/reblogs/etc warm the cockles of my stonecold heart :)


	16. two months

“He’s here, Anna. Are you ready?”

If she squinted, she could make out the path as it led out of town, waving up the foothills, all the way to where it curved left; if she closed her eyes, she could see where it wended up through the forest, turned again at the weathered sign, branched off into the winding, cobblestoned streets she had come to treasure so dearly. She could see him standing there, too, keeping his eyes steady on hers, the way he had until she had lost sight of him. She wondered how long he had watched her go; from atop the mountain, you could almost see all the way to the castle.

“Anna?”

The door creaked open, and Elsa slipped in. Anna forced herself to turn away from the window and meet her sister’s gaze. “Sorry. Ready.”

Elsa reached towards her, hesitantly, as if she wanted to take her hand, but Anna only stared at her impassively. After a moment her hand dropped again, knotting in the fabric of her skirts. “I-- well, let’s get on with it, then."

He was waiting in the throne room, gazing thoughtfully at the Arendellian flag on the wall. Elsa cleared her throat.

“Prince Hans, may I present my sister, Princess Anna.”

Anna stepped forward then and curtsied deeply. “Charmed, I’m sure,” she said, in a voice that indicated she was anything but.

Hans reached out and took her hand, pulling her back up. “Please, there’s no need to be so formal. Especially since I feel like I know you already based on the letters you’ve sent over the years.”

She’d written to him twice a year since the engagement had been set up. This year, he’d gotten nothing at all. She almost felt bad; he had a kind smile. 

“Well, it’s certainly very nice to meet you in person at last,” she said smoothly, a practiced smile sliding onto her face. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for years.”

He was still holding her hand. He lifted it to his mouth, pressed a kiss to it. “As have I, my darling.”

That part wasn’t a lie; not all dreams had to be pleasant, did they?

* * *

Elsa came to her rooms again that night. She knocked for a while, but Anna didn’t answer; she came in anyway. “Sorry to intrude.”

“If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be doing it,” Anna said dully, lying curled on her side in the middle of a bed that felt too big, too soft, too empty.

Elsa sat beside her. “I...know today was hard,” she began; when Anna didn’t respond, she forged on. “But he doesn’t seem too bad, does he?”

“Did you come in here just to ask me that?”

She hesitated. “I...well. I just...wanted to make sure that you understood the...complexities of the situation. That the prince...doesn’t.”

“I’m not going to tell Hans about him, Elsa. I’m not stupid.”

“Well-- there’s that, but there’s also…”

“That I could drop dead any day, and he can’t know that, because then he’ll want to know why Arendelle is trying to cheat him into an alliance by sending damaged goods?”

Elsa recoiled as if she’d been slapped. “You’re not--”

“Then give me one good reason why I can’t tell him.”

There was only silence until the bed creaked as Elsa stood up and left. Anna curled up tighter under the sheets, squeezing her eyes shut, pressing the heels of her hands into them until she saw stars. It didn’t matter; the tears came anyway.

* * *

Hans liked to go on long walks with her all throughout the city. “I want to get to know you _and_ your kingdom, dear,” he would insist with that wide, sweet smile.

He drew admiring looks everywhere they went. It was easy to see why; he could easily have leaped straight off the illustrated page of a fairy tale, all dashing smiles and smooth auburn hair and sparkling green eyes. He liked to walk with Anna on his arm, said he wanted to show her off, wanted everyone to know how lucky he felt.

He was taller than her, his strides much longer; it was a struggle to keep up even before she started getting tired, but she never let him see the effort, focusing instead on chattering away about the sights of the city, rattling off facts and figures she’d memorized as a child as fast as she could so he never asked why she was so out of breath. It was a miracle, she knew, that she was able to keep up with him at all, and she knew it was thanks to the man who had never even let her realize that he was slowing down for her.

* * *

“Your majesty, it’s going to be a difficult winter already. We just can’t afford this.”

Anna paused as she walked past the meeting room. Whoever Elsa was meeting with was from one of the more rural regions that were part of Arendelle, their accent rougher around the edges, but warmer, more melodic than the way people spoke in the city itself. 

“I understand, but some of the infrastructure in the city needs to be replaced for the same reason-- it’ll be unsafe when it gets too cold. We can’t have bridges crumbling under the weight of the ice.”

“Then why doesn’t the _city_ pay for it? Our roads could use repairs, too. We’re trapped on the mountain all winter.”

“Well, we--”

She opened the door without bothering to knock. Both Elsa and the older woman she was speaking with looked up in surprise. Anna smiled graciously at both of them, sailing in and settling on the edge of a chair. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, focusing her attention on the woman from the mountain. “I’ve spent some time in the mountains; I know what life is like there. Would you mind telling my sister and I what we could do to help you and your people before the winter comes?”

It took the woman only a moment to compose herself again. “If it was safer for us to come down to the city and resupply, we wouldn’t have to worry so about storing up everything we’ve got. But as it is, we can’t spare anything from this harvest season if we want to survive til next spring.”

Anna steepled her fingers. “What sorts of things does your village produce?”

“Many of us are shepherds. The rest are just simple farmers trying to get by and sell what little they can spare.”

“The people in the city need warm clothes for winter, too. If the roads were repaired this autumn, do you think some of your shepherds might like to come and sell their wool? We’ve certainly got the market for it. Plenty of people and businesses could make use of it.”

The woman inclined her head. “Certainly, your majesty. But the price of a permit is too steep for many of them.”

“We’ll waive the upfront costs if your people are willing to pay the taxes. Your roads will be repaired first, of course, as you’re all an important part of Arendelle as well. And we’ll not expect anyone to pay until after the first wool harvest.”

The woman considered this for a moment. “Perhaps that will work. Let me go back to my village so we can discuss it together.”

They made their polite goodbyes, Elsa only then remembering her voice. Anna left with the woman, chatting with her all the way to the gates of the palace, feeling more awake than she had in weeks.

* * *

Her escape didn’t last long; Elsa caught her at breakfast the next morning. Anna usually swept through the kitchens only long enough to snag a morning bun; she avoided eating in the formal dining room at all costs, going only when Hans would be present as well. But the queen had clearly been here for a while already, waiting for her chance to pounce.

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday, with that meeting. I didn’t think I’d be able to get anywhere. You have a knack for figuring those sorts of things out.”

It was an obvious olive branch. Anna didn’t care. If Elsa had admitted earlier that Anna knew a thing or two about diplomacy, the relationship between Arendelle and the Southern Isles might not have needed something to cement it.

“I didn’t do it for you,” she responded coolly. “I did it for Arendelle.”

“I know,” Elsa said softly, and they both knew she wasn’t just talking about the meeting.

* * *

Somehow it was September, a whole month since she had left the mountain. Some days it felt like a lifetime ago, a weight she'd always carried in her heart; other mornings she woke up feeling torn into new, fresh pieces all over again, raw and bleeding and gasping with the pain of it. 

She'd stagger to the window then, lean against the cool glass to steady herself, then allow herself just a few moments to gaze north, to drink in the sight of the changing leaves, trace the symphony of color all the way up to that turn in the path that would lead her back.

And then she would look back down at the bustling streets of the city, the homes of her people, pleading with herself to remember why she'd given it up, why she'd come back. Arendelle needed her. 

She would hear the question in his voice every time. "What do _you_ need, Anna?"

It didn't matter; it never had. She was the spare, and not even a good one if she was doing such a wretched job of staying alive.

But he, at least, would have disagreed, and that was enough for her to keep going.

* * *

Her dress for the Harvest Festival was beautiful, a shade of dark gold that complemented her hair and made her eyes seem to shine even bluer than normal. The skirt was full, sweeping to just above her ankles, the top half fitted closely to her frame. It had had to be taken in twice; each time the seamstress had looked up at Anna with worried eyes and a mouthful of pins. 

“It’s beautiful,” she’d reassured her, smiling as brightly as she could.

It was harder to smile at the festival itself. Hans was escorting her, of course, in a perfectly fitted suit with a vest that perfectly matched her gown. “You look lovely, darling,” he said, taking her arm. “Why don’t we walk together?”

Of course she’d agreed; what else could she have done? By the time they arrived in the city center, she was already breathless, but Hans’s eyes were alight with excitement.

“How quaint!” he exclaimed. “It’s always so lovely to see how these little out-of-the-way places keep the old traditions alive, don’t you think?”

Anna forced herself to smile, more focused on staying upright than coming up with a rebuttal to his veiled insult. “Yes. Wonderful.”

“Well, come on then, why don’t you teach me some of your local dances?” he asked, already tugging on her hand. 

Panic surged in her chest; she shook her head, planting her feet firmly. “I’m a terrible dancer, really,” she insisted. 

“I’m sure you're not!” he cried, pulling a little more forcefully. “Even if you were, that doesn’t matter to me. I’m just happy to share this evening with you.”

She let him lead her out to the circle of dancers, just as the band started playing a fast-paced jig. He was a beautiful dancer, not missing a beat, adding in flourishes every opportunity he got. Anna did her utmost to keep up, but after only a minute or so she was feeling the telltale pressure on her chest. She missed a step intentionally, stamping on Hans’s toe. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I told you I was clumsy. Really, I think it’s for the best I go on and get out of your way-- maybe my sister will dance with you? Elsa!”

He grinned at her then, reminding her somehow of a fox. “Such a shame, dear,” he said, an unsettling tone underpinning the polite words. “I was _so_ looking forward to dancing with you. You’ll have to make it up to me later.”

He danced with Elsa and other ladies of the court the rest of the night while Anna sat on the sidelines clapping along. Still, he insisted on walking her back to the castle, nearly to the doors of her bedroom.

“Good night, my darling,” he said sweetly, leaning down to kiss her cheek. It took all she had not to shudder at his touch. The moment she was locked safely away in her rooms, she scrubbed at her face until her skin was pink and stinging, and yet she could still feel the press of his lips, burning like a brand.

* * *

“How are you here?” Anna whispered, eyes shining with unspilled tears.

“I missed you,” Kristoff said, kissing her forehead and drawing her close. She pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the steady, familiar thump of his heartbeat. 

“But how?”

“I love you. Isn’t that enough?” he asked, sadness in his eyes.

“Of course it is,” she tried to say, but he was already fading away.

She jolted upright in bed, reaching blindly to the other side. It was cold, as always. She laid her hand over her own heart, falling back against the pillows again. She was wearing his sweater again, like she did every night; if she closed her eyes tight enough, it almost felt the same.

* * *

“Hans says he wants to be back by the second week of November. He says even that might be pushing it, based on what they’re predicting. It might snow even before that.”

Anna slid her spoon around the edge of her teacup, intentionally clacking it against the porcelain to annoy her sister as she stirred in her third lump of sugar. “Okay.”

“The wedding will be there. Arendelle has...we don’t...well, a lot of things go into a royal wedding, and--”

“We don’t have any money,” Anna said flatly. “Which is why I’m marrying him in the first place.”

“There’s no need to be so crass about it,” Elsa replied, looking put out. It almost made Anna glad; her sister had been acting like a doormat since she’d come back to the city, practically pleading for forgiveness with every sentence.

“Just stating the facts.”

“In any case, we can’t send you off without some sort of celebration. I suggested a ball, and Hans agreed.”

Anna sucked in a breath. “Elsa, you know I can’t...”

“He was quite insistent that you owed him at least one dance. He says it’s how noble engagements are always celebrated in the Southern Isles.”

She took a sip of her tea, wrinkling her nose. She still didn’t understand how he could drink it like this. “Fine. But just so we’re clear, it’s not my fault if I drop dead.”

Elsa slammed down her cup against the table, sloshing hot liquid everywhere. “ _Stop it_ , Anna.”

“Stop what? Dying?”

“Acting like you’re already dead. You know what the doctors said, you’ll be alright if--”

“Spare me, Elsa. It’s a little too late for you to start telling me what they said.”

* * *

Two months. That was all it took, and a whole spring and summer’s progress was gone. Two months of sleepless nights, of being unable to stomach more than a mouthful of food, of pushing herself to keep up with Hans and all his long walks and romantic excursions across the city day in and day out. 

Elsa saw it; so did everyone else in the castle, servants and doctors and members of the court. The cooks had taken special care to make her favorite things; her lady’s maid, Gerda, had made up her bed each night with the softest pillows and warmest blankets; Elsa had tried over and over again to get her to talk, to try and work through her grief and begin moving forward again.

She didn’t want to go forward. She wanted to go back home, back to her sunflowers and the little cottage and the warm arms that would be waiting for her. He would chastise her for not taking better care of herself, just to get her started bickering with him until she cracked a smile, a _real_ one.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against the window. There was nothing else to say.

* * *

Hans was especially giddy the morning after their special couple’s fitting; her gown and his suit were going to be a wonder of fashion, all glimmering silver silk and sparkling stones. The underskirt alone had nearly been too heavy for her to walk in, let alone dance, but Hans had gushed over how ravishing she looked. _Maybe he really does love me_ , she thought, pitying him for it. He certainly did seem like a lovesick puppy some days, the way he gamboled around her, trying to coax a laugh out of her, or at least some small scrap of returned affection. 

Today he was in rare form, taking her by the hand and nearly dragging her to the ballroom. “We should practice, darling, don’t you think?”

“For what?”

“For the party, you silly goose!” he exclaimed with a laugh. “So you don’t step on my toes this time.”

“Oh, I-- I don’t know, I thought the party was more for me to say goodbye…”

“Well, yes, I suppose,” he said, a small frown appearing on his face. “But I want to show you off. I want everyone to look at you and see what a shining star you truly are.”

It was the sort of nonsense she’d swooned over growing up, the sort of silly thing she’d dreamed would be part of her happy ever after. Now it made her feel slightly nauseous. “Well, do we really have to practice now?”

He squeezed her hand harder now, enough that she hissed in pain. Still he didn’t let go. “No time like the present, is there? Besides, you owe me a dance. You wouldn’t want to let your husband down, would you?”

“We’re not married yet.”

He didn’t respond, already pulling her forward into a fast, complicated step around the room. She followed him gamely; at least he had been in meetings all day yesterday, so she’d finally gotten a break from all his walks. _You can do this, Anna_ , she chanted internally. _Think of everything you did this summer. You can do this._

Hans sped up, lifting her hand to twirl her in and out and back again. She was starting to feel a stitch in her side. _Come on, Anna, hide it_.

They made a loop around the ballroom, and he only sped up, an unnerving glint in his eye. “That’s it, darling, you’re doing beautifully. I knew you could dance.”

She couldn’t respond; she was too busy trying to catch her breath. The pressure was growing in her chest, not aided by the rising panic in her mind. “H-Hans--”

He spun her again, and she stumbled, falling to the floor as a wave of pain swept over her. She cried out, clutching her chest with one hand and still clinging to him with the other. 

“Pathetic,” Hans hissed, yanking his hand out of her quickly weakening grasp, his lip curling up into a sneer. 

And he turned and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to go rewatch the charades scene in Frozen 2 where they all shout about how much Hans sucks :')


	17. another two months

“Anna!  _ Anna!” _

Kristoff hadn’t moved since the carriage had pulled away. He could see it now in the foothills, already halfway back to the city. He knew she was still watching, too, though she would have lost sight of him as soon as they’d turned into the forest.

Olaf came skidding up the path, stumbling over a loose stone. Kristoff caught him before he could fall, but the boy was out of his grasp and running down the path as soon as he was steady on his feet again. “Anna! I didn’t say goodbye!”

He let the boy go, watched him run a few more yards before he sat down on the grass and began to sob, pulling his knees up to his chest and hiding his face. Kristoff walked over then and scooped him up. He was nearly too big to be lifted that easily; he was about to turn eight, the same age Kristoff had been when he first met Anna, when he had seen her crying and knew he couldn’t bear to leave her alone.

“She’ll come back and visit, buddy,” he lied, carrying the child back home. “She’d miss you too much, otherwise.” 

Olaf accepted this without question, calming down enough to be set down and walk beside Kristoff the rest of the way back to his grandfather’s house. For a moment, Kristoff almost envied him; he was still young enough that, though he would miss his friend, over time she would fade from his memories into a fond but faint impression of a particularly memorable summer.

For him, it wouldn’t be so easy; he knew he would wake up every morning for a long, long time reaching across the bed, awaking from a dream and expecting to find her there. It was a price he was glad to pay. 

* * *

He knew, of course, that some people turned to drink in times like these. He bought a bottle of liquor and tried it himself one stormy night when he couldn’t sleep for fear that Anna might be out there somewhere caught in the rain.

It had eventually put him to sleep, but he’d still woken up with a blinding headache, his heart pounding as he’d jolted out of a dream about her being out there alone, caught in the wind and rain and unable to find her way back home. He’d take the sleepless nights over that in a heartbeat.

Kristoff forced down a glass of water and a hunk of bread; he’d heard his grandfather prescribe that same remedy more than once to the young people who had a little too much to drink after a festival and showed up at his door convinced they were dying. It helped enough that he was able to make his way out of his cabin and towards the hill, wincing in the bright September sunlight. 

He could hear her in the back of his mind all the way up the hill, could still see her worried blue eyes as she’d laid next to him, sharing a pillow, so close their noses brushed against each other.

_ “Kristoff?” _

_ He was stroking her hair, memorizing the way the strands slipped like water through his fingers. “What is it?” _

_ “Will you still take care of the sunflowers? Please?” _

_ His heart broke for the thousandth time that day. “Of course, baby, you don’t even have to ask.” _

_ “The first one bloomed this morning.” A tear ran down her cheek, glimmering in the moonlight. He brushed it away like he had the rest and left his hand there on her cheek, cradling it. “I wish I could be here to see all the others.” _

_ “I wish you could, too.” _

He crested the hill and strode immediately behind the house. He’d seen the storm clouds rolling in last night and hurried over here as soon as he’d gathered what he needed. The tarp had held up pretty well, all things considered; only one of the stakes had been knocked out of place. Kristoff rushed over and yanked the canvas away, relief washing over him when he saw that the flowers were still okay underneath. Two more had bloomed, even in the middle of the storm. He took it as a good omen; he’d had far too few of those in recent days. 

* * *

“Kristoff?”

“Yeah, Grandpapa?”

The old man shifted from one foot to the other, unusually reticent. “I know you’re still in the midst of the ice season, but I was wondering if you’d mind helping me out again on your off days, if that’s not a problem.”

“Of course not. Whatever you need.”

His grandfather took a deep breath. “The...cottage. It still needs a caretaker. Someone has to go and cover the furniture, finish boxing up anything that was left behind.”

Kristoff gripped the back of a chair to steady himself, hoping the motion was inconspicuous. “Okay.” 

“There’s no rush, really, take your time. You don’t have to go right away.”

He didn’t respond, still feeling suddenly off-balance. Grandpapa came over then, clasping his shoulder. “I...thought you might want to do it yourself. It helps, sometimes, to go back through the good memories. But if you don’t--”

Kristoff shook his head emphatically. “No. I’ll do it.”

His grandfather nodded in return, beginning to pull away, but then suddenly looked up at him again, sorrow in his eyes. “I’m sorry, you know, for what I said at the beginning. And I’m sorry that it ended this way. I thought perhaps there was a chance that…”

He trailed off, and Kristoff nodded, a numbness creeping over him now that the initial shock had worn off. “Me, too.”

* * *

On clear days, when he was higher up the mountain, he could see all the way down to the castle. He let his mind wander some days when he was too exhausted to keep his thoughts in check, found himself wondering what this prince was like, if he loved her, if maybe someday Anna would grow to love him in return. Maybe she, at least, might get a happy ending after all.

He closed his eyes, letting himself remember her again, the way he’d teased her in the early days about her happy ever afters.  _ Six cats, _ she’d insisted, and he’d asked her  _ what will you name them all? _

_ “I was thinking I’d name some of them after characters in my favorite books,” she’d said dreamily. “A Beatrice for sure, and a tabby named Jim Hawkins. And I always wanted a white one named Snowball.” _

_ He’d looked over at her then; they were lying down on opposite sides of a blanket, up at their favorite little pond again. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?” _

_ She’d nodded, eyes sparkling as she met his gaze. _

_ “What’s your prince going to be like, then?” _

_ She didn’t look away from him, but something in her eyes changed. It made him feel suddenly unsteady, the way he did when he was at the peak of the mountain and looked down at the vast world below. “I’m not sure anymore,” she’d whispered, a little smile blooming on her face, and he’d had to fight to keep himself from pulling her to him right then. _

He wished now that he had. Maybe if he’d loved her sooner, for longer, that would have changed things; maybe then it would have been enough for her to stay.

* * *

It was October before he could bring himself to open the door. He’d tended the garden almost every day. Anna had been right; the sunflowers were as tall as he was. He’d doubted that they would grow at all, at first, but she had known, somehow, or maybe made it happen through sheer stubbornness, the whole-hearted devotion she offered to everything she loved that made even the most impossible things grow. 

“Look at you, baby,” he whispered, his fingers trembling as he brushed them over a golden petal. “Look what you can do.”

He drew his hand back, forcing himself to turn and go, to step over the threshold for the first time since the night it had all fallen to pieces. For one heart-stopping second, he thought he caught a whiff of tea brewing on the stove, thought he heard Anna’s little footsteps pattering above him, rushing down to greet him; then he blinked and was left with nothing but the dust.

The kitchen was first, wiping down the table and stove and covering them both over with white sheets, as gently as if they were shrouds. Next was the living room; the plaid blanket had been left thrown haphazardly over the arm of a chair, and he picked it up tenderly, folding it into a neat square before pressing his nose to it. Whether he was imagining it or not, he didn’t care; he could smell her in it, black tea and cinnamon filling his senses once more, like they had that last night together when she had fallen into his arms, dizzy with love and grief and leaning on him even as he was falling, too.

He set it down carefully on the sofa, like he was leaving it ready for the next time it rained and they spent the whole afternoon lying there, kissing and talking and kissing again, all tangled up in each other, and then he covered that over, too, covered everything downstairs until he turned around and could see no trace of her.

He headed upstairs, remembering the weight of her in his arms as he’d brought her up here to tuck her in. She’d left the bed unmade, as she always did, and he smoothed the blankets, straightened the sheets, fluffed the pillows, leaving it all ready, just in case. 

He opened the wardrobe to check for cobwebs and froze. The dress was still hanging there, the blue one she’d worn the night of the summer festival, just as delicate and beautiful as he’d remembered. 

Marieke had loaned her that one on purpose; she’d told Kristoff so, taken him aside the day before the festival. “You still have that blue vest, right?” she’d asked.

“Only one I’ve got,” he’d said, raising an eyebrow, and she’d left him with a wink.

He took the dress from its hanger, intending to fold it so he could carry it back with him, but the moment the soft fabric slid over his palm, he could feel her again, could feel the warmth of her waist against his hand as they’d danced, the way she’d held onto him with those little fingers, barely half the size of his; he remembered the sound of her voice as she’d asked him not to let go, not to leave her, the way she’d fallen asleep leaning against him, the way she’d trusted him so deeply, knowing he would always be there to see her safely home.

A sob wracked him then; he leaned against the wall, trying to find support, but his knees were too wobbly to stay upright, and he slid to the floor, still clutching the dress in his hands. He hadn’t let himself cry like this, determined to be strong for Anna even when she was gone. This sorrow, this grief that hollowed his bones, this was what he’d always tried to protect her from, even the first night they had met.  _ You were crying, and you were scared, and you were alone. And I had to do something--  _ that’s what he’d told her, and he hoped desperately that wherever she was she had forgotten about him, had moved on, that she wasn’t alone in this, too.

* * *

Olaf found him one day in the last week of October standing at the perimeter of the garden, fists clenched as he realized that it was futile. The sunflowers were heavy with seeds, drooping forward, most of their petals lost; he’d kept them alive as long as he could, but they were past saving now. 

The little boy, already wise beyond his years, reached up, took his hand. “They’ll be okay, Kris.”

“Thanks, buddy, but I think these ones are done."

Olaf shook his head. “No, you don’t get it.”

He stepped forward, shaking one of the flowers until a few seeds fell into his palm, leaving the stem bent at a strange angle. Kristoff gritted his teeth, even as Olaf held up the palmful of seeds to him. “See?” he said, eyes shining.

“I see.”

The boy huffed in irritation. “No, you don’t. It’s what Anna taught me. She said she liked this kind of flower best because they always come back. They’re never really gone, you just take the seeds and then next year, you can plant even more. So it’s not goodbye, it’s see you again next summer.”

Kristoff held out his own palm, and Olaf tilted his hand, letting the seeds fall into it. “Maybe we can plant them with Anna if she comes to visit in the spring again,” he said, hopeful, and Kristoff nodded, the sudden lump in his throat making it hard to speak.

Olaf wiped his hands on his pants and pulled out an envelope from his pocket. “Anyway, I came up here to bring you this. The mailman brought it to Grandpapa’s house by mistake.”

Kristoff took the letter, flipping it over. The royal seal of Arendelle was stamped on the back. Hardly daring to believe it, he tore the envelope open and pulled the enclosed card out.

He ran his finger around the gilded edges, nausea rising in him as he read the text, over and over. It was an invitation, on behalf of the kingdoms of Arendelle and the Southern Isles, to a ball, celebrating the upcoming wedding of Princess Anna and Prince Hans. What kind of cruel joke was this? He started to crumple it in his fist, but Olaf cried out, reaching up to stop his hand.

“Don’t!” the boy exclaimed. “There’s something on the back.”

Kristoff turned it over, eyes widening as he read the hastily written message, done in a spidery hand. “Olaf-- come with me. I’ll drop you off before I go,” he said, already running towards the stable and Sven.

“Where are you going?” the boy called after him, giving chase.

“To Arendelle!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it :D or D:? we'll find out ;)


	18. sisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry if the timeline is confusing!!
> 
> Basically, chapter 16 runs from mid-August to mid-October.
> 
> Chapter 17 is mid-August to the first of November, right before the big engagement ball.
> 
> This chapter is mid-October until...you'll see ;)
> 
> "Why didn't you do it in a less confusing way?" you ask? 
> 
> Because dramatic cliffhangers are my lifeblood. Ya welcome. :)

  
  


_ Get up, Anna. _

Blackness was creeping in at the edge of her vision, unconsciousness rolling in like a fog. It was tempting to lean in to it, to let it consume her entirely. 

_ Get UP. _

Another wave of crushing pain rolled through her chest; she would have been sick if she had been able to stomach breakfast that morning. Maybe this really was it; maybe that was what Hans wanted.

_ If you die right now, then you left him for nothing. _

Anna staggered to her feet, stumbled over to the wall. She leaned heavily against it, waiting for her knees to stop wobbling. Once she was steady, or at least close enough, she started walking, unsure of where to go at first. No one could know about what had happened, but if she collapsed again and was on her own…

She gritted her teeth. She knew where she had to go. 

Getting up the stairs was the hardest part; she had to stop every three or four steps to catch her breath, desperately grateful that no one passed her way. From there, it was easy; she’d walked this path so many times as a child, in the dead of night or on holiday mornings or just when she wanted to check if her parents were still there.

They weren’t her parents’ rooms anymore, but the only family she had left was inside, whether she liked it or not. She raised a shaking hand and knocked on the door, slumping against it as an aftershock of pain rolled through her. 

By some miracle, Elsa was there. She pulled the door open, frowning, and Anna fell into her. 

“What happened?” Elsa gasped, catching her just in time. 

Anna couldn’t respond, too focused on staying upright. Elsa kicked the door shut and helped her over to an armchair; she slumped into it, her vision going hazy again. Cool hands pressed against her face, giving her something to focus on, something to cling to while she found her way back to solid ground.

When the pain finally subsided to a dull ache, she blinked and realized Elsa was crying, silent tears rolling down her cheeks and dropping heavily to the floor. “Sorry,” Anna whispered, her voice tremulous as she, too, began to weep. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Elsa leaned down then, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and pulling her close. Anna hesitantly hugged her back; she couldn’t remember the last time they had held each other like this. She closed her eyes, letting herself be comforted by it, even knowing that by the end of the day they’d likely be at an impasse once again. For the moment, at least, it was an anchor, something to help her keep her balance while she prepared to take her next step.

* * *

Eventually, Elsa had coaxed her sister into lying down in the four-poster bed. It hadn’t taken long for Anna to fall into a fitful sleep, but Elsa had no intention to leave her side. She rang a bell to summon a servant, instructing him to cancel all of her meetings for the rest of the day and send up a pot of tea.

It was lukewarm now, she was sure, but it was the closest thing she had to an idea of how to help her sister. Anna had always loved tea; even as a little girl, she had insisted on drinking some with the adults, though never with more than a pinch of sugar. “Just milk,” she would insist, put out when the grown-ups tittered about how funny she looked holding such a big mug in her tiny hands.

Elsa had brought her some every afternoon back when she had first gotten sick, carrying the pot and cups on a tray all by herself, all the way upstairs from the kitchens, holding her breath to keep it steadier every time she turned a corner. Growing up, they’d still kept up the tradition on occasion, but as they had grown apart, Elsa focusing on matters of state while Anna learned...what  _ had _ she learned? How did she not even know  _ that _ ? How long had it been since she had really talked with her sister? 

She realized, suddenly, that the last time they had even had tea together like this had been the night their parents had died. Anna had brought the teapot then, hands tremulous as she poured, and Elsa had let her do it, knowing that finding some way to make herself useful was the way she showed her love.

It struck her then, the terrible weight of what Anna was doing for her and for Arendelle, and suddenly Elsa found herself clambering up onto the bed beside her sister as she had when they were children and one of them had a nightmare. Anna blinked blearily and rolled to face her. “What time is it?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

Elsa shrugged. “I-- I’m not sure.”

Anna started to sit up then, but Elsa reached out, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You need to rest. Please.”

Her sister eyed her, clearly debating whether she had enough energy to start another argument; apparently, she didn’t, and instead sat up the rest of the way, swinging her legs to the side of the bed before freezing suddenly.

“You...made tea?”

“Well...I had it sent up. I thought maybe it would help.”

Anna bowed forward, burying her face in her hands. Frightened, Elsa leaned forward, pulling her into a hug as her sister burst into tears again.

“He knows,” she sobbed. “I think he’s known the whole time. I’m so sorry.”

Elsa’s heart dropped. “What happened?”

Anna told her everything, from the beginning, explaining how Hans had dragged her out for so many excursions, had insisted on all the dances, had made her dance today until she had collapsed on the floor and then left her there. Anger curled around Elsa’s heart like a snake poised to strike, fierce and deadly. “That  _ monster _ . I’ll--”

Anna shook her head. “We can’t do anything. I’ve sat in enough meetings. I know how bad of a spot Arendelle’s in.”

She was right; Elsa hated to admit it, hated herself for not finding a better solution, hated her parents for leaving them in this mess. The Southern Isles had had its eyes on conquering Arendelle since even before their parents' passing; a marriage tie might be the only option left protecting them from the larger kingdom’s ambitions, might buy them enough time to find a long term solution.

Still, she found herself stroking Anna’s hair, desperate to find some way to comfort her. “There might be another way,” she said. “Maybe-- maybe I can talk with some of the ambassadors of the other smaller kingdoms, or...we still have  _ some  _ money, if we put off a few projects, in case they tried an embargo…”

“It’s okay,” Anna murmured, looking drained. “I...know this isn’t your fault. Not really. But thank you for trying to fix it.”

“I should have been trying long ago. I should never have let the advisors even suggest this as an option. It’s not worth it, making you marry him, making you leave Kr--”

Anna let out another little sob. “Don’t-- please don’t say it. I can’t bear it.”

Elsa nodded, pulling her a little closer. “I mean it. I’ll do what I can to find another way.”

“There isn’t one. But...thank you, anyway, for trying.” Anna squeezed her hand then, turning and giving her a weak smile. “I miss you, Elsa.”

“I miss you, too. I’m sorry for...everything. I should have told you about your heart years ago. And I never should have pulled away like I have. I just...I didn’t know what to do, especially after Mama and Papa...oh, god, Anna, they left us in such a  _ mess _ .”

Her sister nodded, resigned. “No use sitting and crying about it, though, is there? Time to start finding our way out of it.” 

* * *

He was waiting for her when she went downstairs the next morning for breakfast. She had been expecting it, though normally he only joined her for dinner. She was surprised, really, that he had even waited this long before pouncing, though she wished he’d waited a little longer; her throat was still sore from all the crying the previous night, which would make it much more difficult to tell him off if it came to that.

“Good morning, darling,” Hans purred, standing up from the table and pulling out a chair. “Do come and sit beside me, won’t you?”

Anna curtsied prettily, rising with a sweet smile. “Of course.”

She settled herself in the chair, folding her hands neatly in her lap to keep them from trembling as Hans piled toast and eggs and bacon onto her plate. She hated eggs.

“You know,” he said conversationally, “Some people would suggest I cancel our engagement, cut my losses and let the world know of this little game to marry you off to someone before you drop dead.”

“And what would you suggest?”

“That it doesn’t matter to me, really, how long you live, so long as the wedding happens. I hope, of course, that you’ll live long enough to give me an heir. Wouldn’t that be lovely? A little prince, with your lovely blue eyes.”

Anna simpered at him. “How sweet.”

“And that way, you see, someone of your bloodline can still inherit Arendelle down the line. Things will work out  _ so _ very nicely in both our favors. So much neater than the alternatives.”

“And those would be?”

He poured her a cup of coffee. “There’s just one, really, but so many ways we could get there. It’s inevitable that one way or another, Arendelle will pass from your family’s hands-- whether I take it by force or your sister runs it into the ground, no matter what, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces for my own.”

“And if Arendelle didn’t need you or your kingdom’s support?”

He laughed, stirring in a lump of sugar and handing the cup to her. “You are  _ so _ funny, darling, I think I’ll never tire of hearing your silly little ideas. How lucky I am to have won your heart.”

* * *

“How did the meeting go today?”

Elsa shrugged, glad Anna was turned away so she couldn’t see her expression. “Pretty well, all things considered,” she said, hoping she sounded lighthearted as she continued plaiting her sister’s hair.

Anna turned her head and was rewarded with a gentle tug on her half-finished braid. “Okay, okay, geez,” she said with a tired little laugh as she turned to face forward again. “But I can definitely tell you’re lying. Just so you know.”

Elsa sighed. “I tried talking with the Duke, really. But he’s happy with our current trade arrangement. If we raise import taxes on Weselton’s goods, that’s going to change, and we can’t afford to lose that income entirely. If you’d been there, though, maybe things would have gone better. You’re much better at diplomacy than me.”

“Maybe I should marry the Duke instead, then.”

“He’s even shorter than you.”

Anna shuddered theatrically. “You can have him, then.”

Elsa laughed and tied off the braid. “You’re all finished.”

Her sister didn’t move, content to be sitting at her feet and leaning back against her knee. “This is...nice. Getting along with you again.”

Elsa couldn’t help but agree. It was a small miracle, really, that her sister had forgiven her for her coldness and for her part in shutting down her relationship with Kristoff. It was plain to see that Anna still longed for him, if anything even more now than she had when she had first left, now that the wedding date was drawing nearer. Hans was planning on taking her back with him the morning after the ball, now only a week and a half away. A lump rose in Elsa’s throat; she had only just gotten her sister back and now was losing her once again, and as much as she had hoped that Anna’s recovery over the summer would stick…

She reached down and squeezed her little sister’s shoulder. “Dinner should be ready now. Will you come down with me?”

“I’m not really hungry, sorry. And my head still hurts.”

Elsa frowned. “Should I have them send some sandwiches up to your room?”

“I’m fine, really.”

She wasn’t; they both knew it. A pang of fear struck Elsa’s heart, not for the first time; she was starting to worry that before long she would be losing her sister to a place much farther away than the Southern Isles.

* * *

Hans still insisted on his walks, on introducing Anna to this diplomat or the other, on their  little dance practices, though now, mercifully, he would let her take breaks when she started getting tired.

She questioned it one day as they were walking back to the castle, having just had a close call; they had only made it a few blocks into the town before she had suddenly felt faint, leaning heavily on Hans’s arm and despising herself for needing his support in yet another way. “Why did you want me to...you know...that one day in the ballroom?”

“I already had an inkling. But I needed to know for sure.”

“How did you know? They kept it hidden for so long.”

He chucked her under the chin, smiling fondly at her as a group of noblewomen passed, eyeing her enviously. “That was exactly it. Who would hide such a lovely flower of a princess, and for what purpose? It’s been clear for years that something was wrong in your little kingdom. I’m just the only one smart enough to do something about it.”

It made her stomach turn to hear him talk so about Arendelle, not only because of his obvious disdain but also because she knew he was right. Her parents had been good people, but they had never been fit to rule; her father had come to the throne much too young, and her mother had been a commoner. She wondered what they would think of what their kingdom, what their daughters, had come to now.

She wondered if wherever they were, they were sorry.

* * *

Talking together had become something of a nightly ritual, so when Anna was nowhere to be found one evening, Elsa was more than a little worried. She had just spent the day having a final dress fitting with Hans; there were only a few more days to go before the engagement ball. Elsa was starting to worry that perhaps something had happened, that Hans had made some more daring move; desperate, she ran to Anna’s rooms and almost flung open the door before catching herself and pausing to knock.

“Come in,” came the weak reply, and she did, hurrying to where Anna was laying on the bed, curled up on top of the blankets and wearing a deep blue sweater that was far too big for her-- the same one, Elsa realized, that she had been wearing when she had left the mountain.

“Anna! What happened?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Just...tired. Long day.”

Elsa placed the back of her hand against Anna’s cheek. “You’re burning up! How long have you felt like this?”

“I’m fine, I promise. Probably just the fire.”

“Let me call a doctor.”

Anna sat up. “No! I’m okay. Please.”

“But your h--”

“ _ No _ .”

Anna’s eyes were bright, that spark of anger returning to them. Elsa tried again. “Anna, if you’re not--”

“I probably just have a cold.”

“But--”

“Whether I’m sick or not, it doesn’t matter,” Anna snapped. “The sooner I marry Hans, the sooner Arendelle is safe from the Southern Isles. There’s not any time to waste. And if I die before it happens--”

“Anna!”

She clutched Elsa’s wrist, silencing her. “Call a doctor. But I’m not staying in my sickbed. If I die before I marry that bastard, then I gave it all up for nothing.”

“There’s still time to see if there’s another way.”

Anna let go, sitting back as a cloud passed over her face. “I don’t think there is.”

Elsa didn’t dare to ask more; she didn’t think she could bear to hear Anna explain further. “I-- I’ll send someone up with something, at least, to see if we can break the fever.”

Anna nodded. “Okay.”

She flew from the room, asking a servant to call for a doctor as she passed by them in the hall, hardly stopping to explain where to send him. She kept going until she was outside, in the crisp, late-October air. She looked up at the gray clouds on the horizon; the first snows were supposed to fall in just a couple of days, maybe even before Anna left. Hans had been right; there was no time to waste before this wedding.

She took a deep breath, willing herself not to be sick in the middle of the garden. Anna had proven herself over the last few weeks to have a sharp political mind, to be a more skilled diplomat than she had ever realized, but she had refused to accept Elsa’s suggestion that she simply break the engagement and stay to help sort it out. “I don’t actually know what I’m doing,” she had insisted. “This way I’ll know for sure. We can’t risk it.”

Elsa had never been a risk-taker, but now, after the revelations of the last few weeks, she was ready to make a gamble, even if it meant the stakes were so high they raised the possibility of losing both her sister and her kingdom. It was a long shot, she knew, in more than one way, but she would take it, would take  _ any  _ chance that meant keeping Anna in Arendelle and Hans out. 

She turned and went back inside, heading straight for her writing desk. A regular letter wouldn’t do; she knew her correspondence was being watched carefully-- Hans had come with quite a few servants and fellow noblemen to keep him company, and though her parents had failed her in so many other ways, that had always made sure Elsa knew how to recognize a spy.

There were still a few invitations left for the ball, and one last batch going out in the next morning’s mail for the people who hadn’t made the first cut. She picked one up, flipping it over and writing carefully in the top corner, hoping no one would think to open the envelope and pull it out.

_ K, _

_ She needs you. I’ll have someone meet you at the gates. Come ready to leave. _

_ E _

  
  


* * *

A knock came on the door. “Come in,” Anna called wearily, fumbling with her petticoat again. She’d sent her servants away, tired of their fretting; she was still running a fever thanks to this blasted cold, and her head had been pounding even before they had started trying to talk her into calling off the party. She was regretting it now that she was faced with the prospect of getting into this monstrosity of a ballgown alone.

To her surprise, it was Hans who slipped into the room, already dressed in his finery and carrying something in a black garment bag. “The night’s finally here, darling. Isn’t it exciting?”

“Very. Help me with my corset?”

He did, pulling the laces tight with practiced ease. “You’re lucky I have a couple of sisters, too.”

“I’ll have to thank them in person.”

“You’ll get a chance very soon. The first snowstorms are rolling in earlier than expected. We’ll leave tonight immediately after the ball.”

She whirled around. “ _ Tonight? _ But I didn’t get a chance to--”

“I am sorry about that at least. I’ll make sure you get a chance to talk to your sister before you go.”

Anna squeezed her eyes shut tightly; at least it would mean getting it all over with sooner. She was suddenly so _ , so _ tired she didn’t even have the strength to argue. “Fine. Help me with...that?” she asked, gesturing weakly to the underskirt.

“No need. I had something else made for you so you won’t have to worry about changing after the party.”

He pulled a gown out of the bag; to Anna’s surprise, it was more to her taste than the massive ballgown had been. “It’s...nice.”

Hans chuckled, motioning for her to step into the gown. “I’m not a  _ complete  _ monster, dear, no matter what you may think. I can at least do this for you.”

She tried and failed not to shudder as he fastened the buttons up the back, imagining a lifetime of this, of being grateful for his small and unpredictable acts of mercy.  _ You’re doing it for Arendelle _ , she reminded herself.  _ It’s worth it _ .

Hans offered her his arm. “Are you ready?”

She wasn’t, but she never would be. She took his arm anyway and let him lead her away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, two author's notes!!!!
> 
> Someday I think I might come back and do a one-shot from Elsa's perspective going into her choices a little more, but for now...this chapter was long enough already :')


	19. the party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas :) double chapter day!

_ She needs you _ .

Nothing else mattered. 

Kristoff raced back to town with Olaf, dropping him off without even saying goodbye.

_ She needs you. _

At his cabin, he slung essentials haphazardly into his satchel, snatching up his festival clothes and stuffing them on top; it was the closest thing he had to ballroom finery, but it would have to do. He was back on Sven within five minutes, galloping down the mountain. The party started that evening at seven; if the postman had been even an hour later, he might not have made it in time. Even now, it was going to be close.

_ She needs you _ .

It didn’t matter. Nothing did, nothing but getting to Anna. If he missed the engagement party and whatever deadline that involved, he’d just keep going, all the way across the vast expanse of ocean to the Southern Isles, further if he had to. He had only been kept from her side by the knowledge that it was her choice to go, her sacrifice to make, and he would never dream of taking that freedom away from her. Even now, he was prepared to turn and come back the moment she asked him to, but if  _ Elsa _ had had to be the one to write him…

“Faster, Sven,” he pleaded, and the reindeer sped up, snorting as if he understood.

Already it was beginning to snow, a few fat flakes drifting down and landing in his hair. The old fears began to surface in his mind again;  _ if Anna is out in this-- if she’s sick again-- if it’s too late-- _

He gritted his teeth. She needed him, and so he would come to see her through it, to whatever end.

* * *

True to her word, Elsa had posted two men at the gates-- but to his surprise, they waited outside of the city, not by the castle as he had expected. Were things so dire that he had to be guided from this point on?

One of them raised a hand in greeting, and Kristoff tugged on the reins. “Our visitor from the mountains?” the man asked, and he nodded.

“Follow me. My friend will take care of your reindeer.”

Kristoff stiffened. “Sven goes--”

“He’ll be at the castle with you,” the man reassured him. “He’ll just be getting there another way. We’ll have him waiting for you outside the kitchens. Queen’s orders. I’m sure you understand why better than we do.”

Kristoff nodded again, wishing that he understood any of this. The man led him on a winding route through the city, taking back alleyways at every possible opportunity. Kristoff was grateful for a guide; between the snow and the setting sun, he would have had a hard time navigating even if he had been more familiar with the city. To his dismay, he realized that there was only one way to the castle itself: through a massive set of gates and across a wide, stony bridge. His companion noticed his worried expression and heaved a sigh.

“Not ideal in a moment like this, but at least not many people saw you get to this point. Once we’re over, there’s a back route again, the way the servants come and go.”

Kristoff tried to remain calm and inconspicuous in the crowds of people crossing the bridge, wondering if they could sense that he didn’t belong. A carriage rolled by him, clearly on its way to the party, and he heard titters of excitement from the others on the bridge, questions about who was inside, what the prince looked like, what the princess would be wearing, whether the Queen might be married next. 

He wanted to take them by the shoulders, shake them and ask them why they weren’t worried, why they weren’t asking about why this was happening; how could they stand around gossiping idly about gowns when Anna was giving up everything for this, for  _ them _ , when she  _ needed  _ him and he still wasn’t there yet?

He shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching his fists until they were over the bridge and cocooned once more in the blessed silence of the back streets. The guard glanced back at him with sympathy. “You alright?”

Kristoff forced himself to nod. He didn’t know how much this man could be trusted. Luckily, he didn’t press him with more questions; instead, he squared his shoulders and picked up his pace, the urgency of the situation clear to him even without an explanation. At last they reached the back doors of the castle, and the man bowed. “This is where I leave you,” he said. “Upstairs two flights, take a right, at the end of the hall. Knock four times.”

Kristoff didn’t have to be told twice. He took off, nearly running, and grateful that everyone in the lower part of the castle seemed to be moving at a similar pace, rushing to prepare things for the ball. It had to be starting any minute now; he could hear violins warming up as he pounded up the first flight of stairs.

At last he found himself at the set of heavy, oaken doors and knocked the mandated four times, his heart in his throat. The door opened just a crack and he slid inside. “Where is she?” he panted, hardly waiting for the door to be shut again.

“Kristoff,” Elsa breathed, looking as panicked as he felt. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t come.”

“I’m here. Where’s Anna?”

“In her rooms-- stop!” she said, catching the sleeve of his shirt as he turned to go. “She’s with Hans.”

His stomach turned at the thought of  _ him _ there with her. “What does she need?” he asked, forcing down the rising tide of nausea.

“She has to get out of here. I can’t let her go through with it.”

“She still wants to go with him?”

“No. But she will if you can’t talk her out of it.”

Kristoff swore under his breath. “Tell me what I need to know. Only enough, we’re--”

“Running out of time, yes. Did you bring formal clothes?”

He nodded, already pulling them out of his satchel. “Good,” Elsa said, relieved. “Change while I explain.”

She turned her back for modesty’s sake. “You know why she had to leave. Arendelle is--”

“In a mess.”

“To say the least. He’s taking advantage of the situation, plans to take the kingdom one way or another. He’s convinced her that this is the least painful route for all parties.”

“You used to agree with that.”

Even though her back was turned to him, he could hear the wince in her voice. “Berate me for the past later. For now, help me convince her to stay. She can do more for Arendelle here, even without this alliance.”

“What if she says no?”

“She might. She did to me. But you…” She glanced over her shoulder, meeting his gaze. “She might yet listen to you.”

“There’s a lot riding on my powers of persuasion.”

“There’s a lot riding on how much she loves you,” Elsa said, turning to help him with the buttons of his vest. He let her; his fingers were shaking too badly to even keep hold of them. “Hans wants to leave with her before the storm starts.”

“It already has.”

“Then we have less time than I thought. Walk with me while we can. You’ll have to go back down the way you came, come in through the main entryway.”

He hurried after her, still trying to make sense of it all. “If she agrees to break it off?”

“Get her out. Hide her somewhere.”

“Why? Can’t you just kick him out?”

“We can, but I worry he’ll take her with him anyway, whether she wills it or not.”

“Anna’s tougher than--”

Elsa turned back, placing a hand on his arm. “She’s sick, Kristoff.”

_ And you weren’t here to-- _ He shoved the thought away. “How sick?”

“I don’t know. She won’t--” Elsa closed her eyes for a moment, composing herself. “She won’t tell me.”

Kristoff didn’t wait to hear more; he pushed past her, heading down the stairs, praying to every god he knew that he wouldn’t be too late. 

He slipped in with the crowds, forcing himself not to elbow his way past them all and burst into the ballroom. Panic was rising in his throat, but he forced it back; panic wouldn’t save Anna. At last, he was through, standing in a ballroom that could have housed half of his village, but he had eyes only for her. He shouldered his way through crowds of dancers with murmured apologies, searching frantically for any sign of her. “Damn it, Anna,” he muttered, “why couldn’t you be  _ taller _ ?”

His eyes caught on a streak of red hair, and it took all he had not to break into a run there and then. It was Anna, but not  _ his  _ Anna; he had never known her like this, never seen her so pale and delicate that she looked like a snowflake ready to melt away. She turned, escorted into a dance by a man whose ostentatious silver suit matched her gown, and Kristoff swallowed hard; the cut of her dress was low enough for him to see her shoulder blades flutter with the movement, unnaturally sharp against her skin.

Feeling ill himself, he watched her dance with the man-- Hans, no doubt-- knowing how much it had to be costing her. He was trying to figure out the best way to cut in without causing a scene when suddenly, by some miracle, her eyes landed on his, just for a moment. He froze in place, wondering if she had realized it was him; she kept dancing as if she had noticed nothing, but then only a moment later in the midst of a spin her eyes locked on his, widening in recognition. He dared to move a little closer, staying on the fringes of the crowd, knowing that this would likely be his only shot.

The song ended at last, and she made a neat little curtsy to her partner before leaning up to whisper in his ear. He nodded and moved away through the crowd, making his way with practiced ease. The moment his back was turned, Kristoff pushed forward, his heart pounding.

Anna moved towards him, looking stunned. The world seemed to slow around him, all the colors and sounds fading into a blur as she reached for him, eyes even bluer than he had remembered, even with shadows smudged underneath them. He wanted to weep, to shout for joy, to kiss her so soundly that there was never again any doubt that he was  _ hers _ , completely, no matter how great the distance between them, and then all at once she was there beside him, slipping her little hand into his, standing at an angle and adjusting her skirts no one could see. “Are you really here?” she whispered, her voice hoarse, and something in him shattered.

“Yes,” he said softly, squeezing her hand, the way he had dreamed of so many times during the seemingly endless sweep of empty days. 

A little whimper escaped her then, her eyes welling up with tears. “Kristoff--”

The music started up again, and he hastily set his other hand on her waist. “Stand on my feet if you need to,” he said hurriedly, beginning to lead her into the dance. “Just try to make it until we’re closer to the doors.”

“How did you-- how are--” She broke off, already having to pause to catch her breath.

“Don’t talk,” he said, fighting the wave of terror threatening to consume him. “Just stay with me.”

She nodded weakly, and he tugged her a little closer, letting her put more of her weight against him. “Elsa asked me to come. She’s worried about you. She wants you to stay here.”

Anna opened her mouth, ready to protest, but Kristoff shook his head. “You don’t have to explain. She told me you think this is what’s best for Arendelle. But Anna-- think of everything you could do here. Nobody loves this place like you do. Imagine how much more you could accomplish if you  _ stayed _ .”

“It’s not that easy,” she said, sorrow settling over her features. “He wants it for himself. He won’t stop.”

“ _ You _ could stop him.”

“You put too much faith in me,” she said, forcing a pitiful laugh. 

He shook his head emphatically. “Anna--”

She stumbled then with a near-silent cry of pain, and his heart squeezed in his chest. Glancing up, he spotted a shadowy corner blocked by a large plant and pulled her into it, knowing he had only a few moments left before someone noticed she was missing. “Anna, who’s to say this wedding will be enough for him? What if you go and he still goes through with the rest of it?”

She bit her lip. “I-- I know he might…”

“You could stop him from here. You’ve got your sister, you’ve got the people backing you. There’s still a chance--”

Her eyes widened suddenly; she pushed him away, dropping his hand. Kristoff looked over his shoulder, a cold chill running down his spine as Hans approached, murder in his eyes.

“You think to make a mockery of me at my own engagement party?” he hissed, reaching down to yank Anna forward by the wrist. “You think I’m too much of a fool to notice you slipping away?”

“Hans--” Anna started weakly, but he yanked her closer, making her cry out in pain. Kristoff started for him, ready to put an end to it all then and there, but Anna shook her head, fear in her eyes. He followed her line of sight and realized, blood draining from his face, that two guards wearing the regalia of the Southern Isles were watching, hands on their swords.

He turned back after a moment’s calculations, ready to snatch her away and run, but already they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops :)


	20. the first snows

She had endured the swathes of empty days spent in isolation, the screaming sorrow of grief in so many ways; even now the imminent prospect of her own death loomed in front of her, taunting her, but Anna saw those men facing Kristoff, blades at the ready, and thought  _ so this is fear. _

She wanted to run back to him, to cry out in warning, to do  _ anything _ , but Hans’s hand was a vise grip on her wrist as he pulled her out of the ballroom, smiling all the way, and the partygoers, drunk on their fairytales, smiled back at him.  _ What a beautiful couple _ , they tittered,  _ so in love, they can’t keep their hands off each other. _

Anna, the girl who had once wept over struggling seedlings, wanted to wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze.

Instead, she focused all her energy on staying upright, on not stumbling, on searching frantically through the crowds to see where he had gone, whether he was safe. Her head was pounding, aching so sharply tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. Her breath, already ragged from exertion, tore sharply from her chest, each inhalation a frantic gasp. 

Then all at once, they were past the doors, in the now-empty entry hall, and Hans shoved her back against a wall. Her head smacked against it, a singing pain erupting in her skull, but before she could cry out he flattened his hand across her mouth.

“I should have known you would try some foolish thing,” he hissed. 

Anna shook her head frantically under his grasp, and he lifted his hand. “I don’t know what he wanted,” she gasped out, eyes watering.

“Was he a stranger to you?”

“Yes.”

Hans only laughed. “You’re a terrible liar.”

He took her arm again then, twisting it behind her back, and propelled her towards the door. “I hope you took the time to say goodbye to your sister,” he murmured in her ear, his tone chillingly pleasant. “It’s time for us to go home.”

She tried to wriggle free of Hans’s grasp and was rewarded for her efforts with a sharp pinch. “What if I don’t want to marry you anymore?” she challenged.

“You wouldn’t do that to Arendelle, now, would you?”

“I don’t want to marry you anymore.”

Hans laughed mirthlessly. “Then your lover should have done a better job planning that little escape attempt.”

She tried to stamp down on the top of his foot, but he kicked her easily away. She had been weak even before he had taken her out of the ballroom, even before her eyes had met Kristoff’s, and Hans knew it, had felt the burn of the fever so many times over the last few days of dances and walks and dresses when he had taken every opportunity to kiss her cheek or take her hand and done nothing but smile and simper. She wondered then if that was the real reason for all of this, if suffering drew him in as a flame beckoned to a moth.

"Will they hurt him?"

"If he tried to follow, he's already dead."

Kristoff would always follow her.

Cold dread washed over her, a terrible, rushing wave of certainty that choked her, blinded her; her attempts to break loose from Hans's grasp, already feeble, ceased entirely as she let him drag her outside towards the stables.

At first, she had thought he was just another fever dream when her eyes had landed on him across the ballroom; it wouldn't be the first time in recent days that she had had such a vision. It wasn't until she held his hand in her own that she had let herself believe it, had let herself be overcome with gratitude that by some miracle she was getting to see him one last time.

Now she wished he had never come at all, had forgotten her entirely; she wished she had never left the mountain, never gone to it in the first place, had died the moment she first fell ill all those years ago-- anything that meant she had never brought this harm upon him.

She realized suddenly that they were already at the stables, that Hans had opened the door of his carriage and was trying to lift her in; how long had she been leaning on him, how heavily? She wished he had let her fall instead, let her sink into one of the rising snowbanks and stay. 

Anna raised a shaking arm and managed to pull herself up into the carriage, collapsing back against the seat. Hans followed immediately after, slamming the door shut behind him as the carriage took off. “Do I need to keep holding on to you, or have you learned your lesson?”

She was too exhausted to even turn and look at him. He curled his arm around her wrist anyway, clenching his fingers just because he could. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Bold words for a dying girl from a dying kingdom.”

Her head ached, the constant pounding of the last two weeks worsened by Hans’s rough treatment. The bright white of the flurrying snow only made it worse, but she stared anyway, willing it to worsen the pain until she was left unconscious. She wondered how much it would hurt to have a sword cut into her flesh, how much he would--

She turned suddenly back to Hans. “They wouldn’t kill him there. Not in the middle of a party.”

He laughed, genuinely amused this time. “No, they wouldn’t.”

“Why would you--”

“Because you make it so  _ easy _ , dear.”

She curled her hands into fists, drawing up all the anger that she had in her, all the resentment left by old wounds of loneliness, the fury she had felt upon finding out the truth, the white-hot hatred that was boiling under her skin as he looked at her with those glittering green eyes.

“My name,” she spat, “is Anna,” and she threw herself forward as hard as she could, slamming her forehead into the bridge of his nose. He cried out and jerked backward, releasing her. Without a moment’s hesitation, she snapped the door of the carriage open and leaped out into the heart of the storm.

* * *

Kristoff turned back and met the eyes of the guards again, heart thundering in his chest, weighing his chances; would they really risk open combat in the middle of a ball? He was unarmed, knew little of how to use a weapon anyway, but despite his stature, he was fast, maybe even fast enough to--

He didn’t waste another moment considering. Another dance was beginning, setting the room back to whirling. He turned for the doors and ran. 

Sven had been tied up outside the kitchens; that was the only guidance he had as he charted a course throughout the lower halls of the castle. He darted around a corner, frightening a serving girl, but there was no time to stop and apologize. He could hear booted footsteps pounding behind him, giving chase. 

At last, he came to a set of double doors and burst through, vaulting over a table without bothering to slow down in his quest for the back door. Shouts rose around him, hands reached for the hem of his shirt, but still he didn’t slow, knowing that every second meant Anna was getting further away. 

_ She needs you. _

He burst through the doors and into a maelstrom of snow. Sven was waiting, tied to a post, and Kristoff slowed only long enough to rifle through the saddlebag and yank out a knife and his traveling cloak. He slung the cloak over his shoulders and reached down to cut the rope free, leaping onto the reindeer’s back the moment it was done. “Come on, boy,” he panted, urging him forward, and they took off into the storm. 

_ She needs you, she needs you, she needs you _ \--

He had no idea where Hans had taken her, only that they must be heading in the direction of the docks. His head swam with memories, trying to piece together a map of the city, but it was of little use; even if he had known it better, Arendelle was nearly unrecognizable in the midst of the snowstorm. He focused on sounds instead, trying to listen for the clattering of wheels against cobblestone, but the wail of the wind drowned out all other sound.

His heart was pounding; he couldn’t lose her again, not to Hans or the Southern Isles or to Arendelle, not even to--

“Anna!” he screamed then, her name tearing its way free from his throat, whipping away into the wind. “Anna!”

* * *

Anna threw her arms out wildly as she fell, instinctively hoping to catch herself. She landed hard on her right side, feeling her wrist take the brunt of the impact. It hurt, but then so did everything, and so she scrambled to her feet and ran.

She didn’t know if by leaping she had saved Arendelle or merely hastened its damnation; all she knew was the fire in her lungs, the ache in her head, the scream of snow scraping over her skin. Her skirts tangled around her ankles, already sodden, and she hoisted them up with her good hand, desperate to put as much distance as possible between herself and the carriage.

The snow was so thick in the air that she nearly ran into the side of a building; she pressed her bare hands against the brick, using it as a guide as she pressed forward, fingers scrabbling to find a sign, a nameplate, anything that might give her guidance. 

She heard him then, his voice the sound she knew more than all others, his frantic call rising over the wind. “Anna!” 

_ That can’t be right, he’s dead _ \-- but no, he wasn’t, Hans had said so, but Hans had also said he  _ was _ , and her head ached too much to make sense of it. The call came again, louder this time, and she ran towards it, too afraid to reply; if Hans came back now, if her call led him this way--

She ran towards the voice, no longer relying on the building as a guide.  _ I’m coming,  _ she wanted to yell, wanted him to know that she would never turn away from him again, that doing so had been her greatest mistake, that if he would have her she would never again do anything but stay. Her heart railed against her chest, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, her entire body rebelling against her, and still, she pressed on. 

His voice came again, closer this time. “Anna!”  
“I’m here,” she gasped, praying that Hans was no longer close enough to hear. The world, still a sea of white, was starting to turn gray around the edges, and she knew she was running out of time.

“Anna!”

“I’m  _ here _ ,” she called, louder now, the words turning into a sob as she stumbled forward, her knees giving way beneath her. “I’m here, Kristoff, please--”

All at once he was there, emerging from the storm like sunlight bursting through a cloud. And then she was in his arms, cradled against his chest as he lifted her from the ground as if she were lighter than even the first wisps of snow. He settled onto Sven, and she cried out as the movement jostled her injured wrist. 

“What did he do?” Kristoff asked her, his eyes wild with terror.

The gray was black now, eating away at the edges of her sight; there was a roaring in her ears, louder than even the storm. “I love you,” she gasped through chattering teeth, terrified that after all this time he might have forgotten. 

“You’re going to be okay,” he promised, nudging Sven to move forward. “You’re going to be okay, Anna, can you hear me? Anna!”

_ I love you _ , she tried to tell him again, but already it was too late.

* * *

Anna’s head lolled against his shoulder, all the lines in her body going slack, and he fought to suppress a scream as they pressed forward, back into the storm. His eyes had adjusted somewhat to the blinding whiteness, just enough that he could make out the bridge. “That way, Sven,” he called, steering the reindeer as best he could with shaking hands.

Kristoff reached up and yanked his cloak free from his shoulders, clumsily draping it over Anna. Even in unconsciousness, she was trembling against him, her skin ice-cold even as her cheeks were flushed red with fever. “Don’t leave me again, Anna,” he begged, knowing she couldn’t hear. “ _ Please _ .”

The journey back to the castle couldn’t have taken long, even in the storm, but each passing second sent a jolt of fear down Kristoff’s spine; Anna’s breaths were only growing shallower, her skin growing colder. At last they reached the doors of the castle and he slid down, still holding tight to Anna’s limp frame. Even in her gown, she was so  _ small _ , so light in his arms; what would have happened if he hadn’t come tonight, if he hadn’t found her in the storm, if--

He shouldered his way through the doors, shoving the thoughts away with it. “Help!” he called, his voice hoarse. “I need a doctor!”  
A servant came running, skidding around the corner. “The princess!”

“ _ Help _ ,” Kristoff panted, moving towards the stairs. 

A small crowd was already forming, pouring out from the ballroom. Fury filled the places in him that weren’t already sodden with grief; had they even noticed she was gone? He pushed his way past them, pounding up the stairs; surely her rooms were on the same hall as Elsa’s, surely a doctor would come--

A hand touched his shoulder, and he jerked away on instinct. “Easy,” the voice instructed, and he looked down to see a small man. “I’m the doctor, I--”

“Show me where to take her.”

He did, a few members of the crowd joining them. Kristoff didn’t care; there was no time to waste on sorting out who was of use and who wasn’t. The man led him to an oaken door and swung it open. Kristoff went inside, going immediately to the bed and laying Anna on it. For a moment he froze, unable to understand how she could look so  _ small _ , so still and pitiful lying there on the bed when only an hour ago she had been in his arms, had taken his hand in her own, had given him hope that maybe--

A hand was on his chest then, and he stumbled backward, eyes still focused on Anna. “You need to leave,” said a stern voice, and he shook his head, slow and stunned.

“No-- no, she needs me--”

There were guards now, this time in Arendellian clothes, and one of them was glaring at him, ready to use force if necessary. He looked down and saw the doctor was the one pressing him out of the room, pushing him back. “You have to  _ leave _ , sir, I appreciate what you did, but--”

Kristoff tried to step around him, but the guard was at his elbow then, pulling him back.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, and Kristoff began to shake.

“She needs me, you bastard!”

The guard shoved him back out of the room then; when Kristoff tried to lunge forward again, he stood his ground, filling the doorway. “Leave. You’re no help to her.”

“But--”

The guard eyed his now-ragged clothes and snorted. “What does a man from the mountains know about caring for a princess?” 

The door slammed shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY


	21. breaths

Kristoff pounded against the door to no avail; he was beginning to consider forcing it open when he heard the deadbolt click shut. Helplessness roiled through him, burning him up from the inside out, leaving him shaking as he leaned against the unforgiving wood, straining to hear what was going on inside. 

He had dreamed of reuniting with her for so long, thought of how he would run to her and catch her in his arms the way he had after they’d first started sending letters, how he would kiss her senseless the way he had that first time under the oak tree, how he would tell her, over and over again, how much he loved her, how he would do anything,  _ be _ anything, if it meant she would never again ask him to say goodbye.

And now it seemed even getting to say goodbye might be impossible. He sank heavily to his knees, one hand still pressed to the door. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, sinking in an ocean of memories, but by the time he heard clicking footsteps coming up the hallway behind him, his joints were stiff and sore.

It was Elsa, all traces of majesty gone as she rushed down the hallway, her gown hoisted up around her knees. “Where is she? What happened?” she panted, grabbing at his shoulder.

“In there,” he said, tilting his head towards the door. “I found her in the snow.”

“How is she?”

“I-- I don’t know. They won’t let me in.”

Fury sharpened her features. She let go of him then and took hold of the door handle, trying to open it.

“I told you you can’t come in,” the guard snapped from the other side.

“This is your queen,” Elsa hissed, “and if you do not unlock this door  _ right now _ I will see to it that you never work in Arendelle again.”

The door flew open then, and Elsa strode inside. Kristoff rose to his feet and rushed in, freezing when he saw Anna there on the bed, so unnaturally still he thought wildly  _ that’s not her, that can’t be her, not my Anna-- _

“Get out,” Elsa told the guards, waving her hand dismissively. She, like Kristoff, had come to a stop just past the door; the guards slipped past with hastily murmured apologies.

The doctor cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Your majesty, the princess needs to be disturbed as little as--”

“Do not presume to tell me what my own sister needs,” she snapped, ice in her tone though Kristoff could see the fear in her eyes. “Just tell me your diagnosis.”

He inclined his head, unruffled. “She is running a high fever and likely has been for at least a week. She was chilled from being out in the storm but managed to avoid any long-term effects.”

“Her heart?”

“Too early to tell.” The doctor hesitated then, as if what he was about to say next pained him deeply. “She also has...bruising. And a fractured wrist.”

His words hung heavy in the air, but no response came. He nodded his head after a moment and said kindly, “I’ll leave you with her for now.”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Kristoff took a step closer to Anna, his breath ragged in his chest. They had taken off her gown and dressed her in a woolen nightgown; he saw now that her right arm was bound carefully with gauze and tied in a makeshift sling. A faint blue bruise was rising on her forehead; uglier, deep purple ones were on her other arm. A wave of horror swept over him; they were in the shape of long, cruel fingers.

“Let me-- let me get a chair,” Elsa said, her voice strained as she stepped back out into the hall. He couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t easy seeing Anna like this. Already her skin looked almost translucent, as if she were fading before his eyes. Her hair was unbound, spilling bright as blood over the pillow. Kristoff stepped closer, leaning down to brush his lips across her cheek in the barest hint of a kiss, scared that if he touched her too roughly she would tear like paper and float away in the breeze.

In the end, none of it had mattered.

It didn’t matter that she was a princess, next in line to the throne, that she had been engaged to a prince from one of the wealthiest kingdoms in the world. Gold, jewels, power, prestige-- none of that could help her now. It didn’t matter that next to all of that, Kristoff was nothing, had nothing at all to offer; he loved her, and that would have to be enough.

“Anna,” he whispered, and her eyes fluttered open.

“‘m cold,” she mumbled, her voice still thick as she struggled back to consciousness. Her eyes met his, glazed with fever and exhaustion, and he nodded, a lump in his throat; in her delirium, she didn’t recognize him. Casting his eyes around the room he noticed a sweater folded carefully, set on her nightstand as if she needed to know it was near. He picked it up, confused at its size, then felt his heart shatter all over again when he realized he recognized it.

_ Keep it together, Kristoff _ , he told himself firmly.  _ She needs you _ .

He took a moment to catch his breath by propping a pillow up behind Anna’s back and guiding her to sit up. “Hold out your arms, sweetheart,” he said, and she complied with a wince, even that small movement costing her.

He pulled it on for her, as gently as if he were dressing a newborn infant, moving her injured arm as carefully as possible. As her head emerged from the sweater, her hair still caught beneath the collar, her eyes met his, suddenly brightening with recognition. “Kristoff?”

A sigh of relief escaped him. He reached down, gently freeing her hair from the confines of the sweater and retying the sling as she collapsed back against the pillows. “I’m here.” 

Anna reached for him then; he caught her hand and kissed each finger before lacing them with his own. “I love you,” she said, managing a small smile.

His voice shook. “I love you, too. More than anything.”

Elsa stepped in then, silent as a ghost. She carried a chair with her; she set it next to Kristoff before stepping back outside, murmuring something about fetching the doctor. Kristoff sat, pulling it forward slightly so that Anna didn’t have to reach so far to cling to his hand.

“Why did Elsa leave?” she asked, her voice still weak.

He hesitated. “She-- has something to take care of.”

“Is it Hans? Is he still here?” Anna asked, her eyes going wide.

“I don’t know. But I won’t let him hurt you again.”

She looked like she wanted to believe him but couldn’t quite convince herself. “I’m so scared,” she whispered, squeezing his hand with trembling fingers, desperate for comfort. 

He could feel a burning behind his eyes again; he knew he would spend the rest of his life haunted by that little shake in her voice, that horrible fear in her eyes. He took a deep breath, leaning forward to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s okay, baby. You’ve been brave long enough. Let the rest of us have a turn.”

The door creaked open as the doctor slipped back in, Elsa on his heels, still looking frantic. “I need to examine her now that she’s awake,” he explained, moving to where Kristoff sat. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he began to stand, but Anna tugged weakly at his hand. “Don’t go, please,” she begged. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’ll never leave you again,” he swore.

He let go of her hand, stepping out of the doctor’s way; her eyes left his only reluctantly when the doctor sat down in the vacated chair.

“What happened, Anna?” the man asked, beginning his careful examination.

“He wanted me to go with him. He pulled me outside…” She frowned slightly, reaching up with her uninjured hand to touch the back of her head. “I think he hit my head on something.”

Kristoff felt his hands curling into fists; if he hadn’t promised not to leave her side he would already be back out in the storm, ready to tear Hans limb from limb.

“And after that?” the doctor asked gently.

“We were in the carriage...I, um...headbutted him,” she admitted, sounding somewhat sheepish. “And then I jumped out, and I ran. And Kristoff found me.”

“You’re lucky he did.”

Her eyes met Kristoff’s again, full of love and gratitude despite her obvious exhaustion. “I know.”

The doctor stood again. “Rest now, my lady. I’ll be back soon to check on you again.”

Anna nodded weakly, already fading back into sleep. The doctor slipped out quietly, and Kristoff took his chair again, Elsa pulling up an armchair on the other side.

Anna turned to her sister. “Is Hans…?”

“The docks are blockaded. There are guards posted at every gate. He’ll answer for what he did.”

“Good.” Anna closed her eyes then, the tension sliding away from her body as she sank back into the pillows, and for one heart-stopping moment, Kristoff thought it might be the end.  _ I’m not ready, she can’t go, I’m not  _ ready--

“Tell me your happy ever after.”

Her voice was barely audible; she didn’t even open her eyes. Kristoff glanced up at Elsa, wondering if the queen would remark on this odd request, but she only had eyes for her sister.

He cleared his throat, taking Anna’s hand to steady himself. “You’re going to wake up tomorrow and feel better,” he began, his voice low and soothing, “and you’ll keep getting better, and when the snows start to melt I’ll take you back up the mountain, back home.”

“To your house,” she said softly, and a tiny smile bloomed on his face.

“It’ll be our house then,” he promised. “I’ll build a chair for you, and shelves for all your tea, and I’ll buy you whatever color of curtains you pick, a whole new set every week if you want.”

Her grip on his hand was weakening; he moved even closer, letting their joined hands rest against the sheets. “We’ll have your six cats and the dog, and you can name all of them whatever you please. And we’ll plant sunflowers all around the house, so many of them we’ll be able to spot them from the top of the mountain and know exactly how to find our way home.”

Her breaths were even now, shallow and slow; the last vestiges of worry had slipped from her features as she slid into sleep once more, and Kristoff’s heart began to pound, wondering if he would see those blue eyes again.

“And I’ll love you, Anna, until the day I die and then some.”

He kissed her forehead and settled back in his chair, never taking his eyes off the slight rise and fall of her chest, the only sound in the room the faint, insistent ticking of the clock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE ALMOST TO THE FINISH LINE


	22. a future

She dreamed for a long, long time.

She dreamed about locked doors and barred windows, about all the ways she might try to escape from them-- ropes, saws, picked locks, bribed guards, once even going so long without food she slipped right through the crack in the door only to faint once she was past. She dreamed of seeing other people trapped, too, a little boy with blond hair looking at her from a window and a queen tied to her throne who cried snowflakes so beautiful the world stopped and watched. Sometimes she dreamed she made it out only to be caught by a fox with clacking teeth and wicked eyes and that he took his arm in his cruel jaws and shook her about until she screamed herself hoarse.

Those were the bad dreams; the good ones were the ones that came in between, the dreams of large, rough hands cradling her face and helping her to gulp down cool water, of quick, gentle fingers that worked their way through the snarls in her hair, of a warm, deep voice singing her lullabies after she woke up and was still hurting. She liked those dreams very much; she wanted to stay in them as long as she could, but always the nasty ones seemed to come back, dragging her back into their depths until she forgot what was awake and what was not.

And then, all at once, there was sunlight in the window and she was blinking awake and her mouth was dry and her head still sort of hurt and her arm was achey and strangest of all there was a face she was very fond of lying on the bed right next to her hand, fast asleep.

She smiled, stretching stiff fingers forward to comb through the piles of golden hair that fell over his eyebrows; it was softer than she had expected. The sweet slope of his nose that she had kissed so many times was next; she trailed her finger down it slowly, the way she remembered her mother had done when she was very small. Her hand found his jaw next, marveling at the way the newly sprouted brown stubble pricked at her fingertips. 

She looked back up at his eyes then and found them wide and wondering. “Hello,” Anna whispered.

“Hello.”

“You’ve got quite the beard coming in.”

Kristoff sat up from where he had been slumped forward onto the bed, stretching with a wince. “Do you like it?”

“Very much,” she whispered, and he leaned down again to kiss her once, chastely, his lips soft and warm as the brush of sun-soaked petals. She smiled against him, reaching up with her good hand to cradle his cheek.

“How do you feel?” he murmured, pulling back just enough to lean his forehead against hers.

“Like I just slept for...how long was I…” She waved her hand. “You know.”

“A week.”

“A _week_?”

“Well, six days,” he amended. “Today would have been seven.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Anna muttered, falling back against her pillows. 

Kristoff smiled softly. “You needed to rest.”

“I’m sorry to have worried you.”

He took her hand, squeezing it slightly. A broad smile spread over his features when she squeezed back. “It’s okay. I’m glad you’re still here for me to worry about.”

There would be time later to hear it all, to sift through the weeks of pain and listen to each little wound, honor it, and she knew he would gladly do the same for her until they both could rest easy again. But there was a lifetime for all of that; for now, she was content to hold and be held by him in the light of the morning sun.

* * *

Her heart was thundering in her chest. She hoped that didn’t affect what the doctor was doing. Elsa was nervous, too; her fingers, intertwined with Anna’s, were trembling. Kristoff, always the calm in the storm, was sitting in an armchair across the room to give the doctor the room he needed to maneuver, but he never tore his gaze from Anna; she knew it was as much to center himself as to calm her. She winked at him, and he managed a faint smile.

“Well, then,” the doctor said, pulling away with his stethoscope in hand, “I do believe that you’re going to be just fine.”

“I— really?”

“Well, you’ll still have to be careful, but the fever doesn’t seem to have caused any new damage. If you had waited any longer before letting me treat you, it might have been too late.”

She flung her arms around the little man’s neck, not caring when it sent a jolt of pain through her broken wrist. “Thank you!”

He patted her kindly on the back. “You still need to get your rest. No more running into snowstorms.”

“Not even if—“

“ _No_ ,” Kristoff and Elsa said in unison.

* * *

“Anna? What are you doing in here?”

“You kept rubbing your neck today.”

“What does that have to do with you being in my bed?”

“It’s not really your bed, though, is it? If you never actually use it.”

Kristoff crossed his arms. Anna smirked. She knew she would be winning this one.

“I just...I like sleeping in the chair in your room. I like knowing I can wake up and see you’re there.”

He wasn’t going to make it easy on her, though.

“Well, I like knowing you’re getting a good night’s sleep.”

“I sleep better in there.”

“Well, I’m in _here_ now,” she said sweetly, patting the space next to her on the bed. “Shall we call it a compromise?”

He scowled, though she could see the familiar twinkle in his eye. “You still have a broken arm.”

“So try not to roll over and squish me.”

She reached out for him, and he came willingly, standing between her knees and cradling her face in his palms. “Only sleeping, though,” he said half-heartedly.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, already sliding her fingers up under the hem of his shirt, smiling when he shivered and leaned down to kiss her.

Really, it was the only responsible thing to do; afterward, they both slept better than they had in-- well, ever.

  
  


* * *

Before, she had never been overly fond of long meetings; now, while they weren’t exactly _fun_ , she almost looked forward to them. With Elsa’s encouragement-- and gratitude-- she’d started taking a more active role in the diplomatic affairs of the kingdom once she’d been well enough to. It had always come naturally to her, figuring out how to work with people and find common ground, and each little victory left a spring in her step.

They were a nice break in the monotony of winter, too, especially on days when Kristoff was out and about. She had been worried about him, knowing that he felt uncomfortable in the city, but he was quickly adapting, though they both longed for the mountain. He was able to visit now and again on clear days using one of the castle’s sleds, and he always returned with warm greetings from their friends there and long lists of questions from Olaf. Other days, he found odd jobs around the city, doing carpentry work or helping load cargo ships. Anna had told him he didn’t have to work, that they were happy to give him all he needed, but he’d just shaken his head and given her a mysterious smile. “I’m saving up for something,” he’d explained.

Some days, like today, he’d have to leave at the crack of dawn, but he never failed to leave a letter on Anna’s bed for her to wake up to. She treasured them all, but the one in her pocket right now felt like a good-luck charm as she stepped into what promised to be a particularly long and tense meeting with the Southern Isles about the future of the alliance; Hans had been summarily banished from Arendelle and had apparently at last made it home.

She pulled the letter out one last time and snuck a peek.

_Anna,_

_Wish I could be there with you for this one. They’ve got a lot to answer for, but I think the most important question is “how crooked did his nose heal?” I’m betting it’s completely flat, knowing how hard-headed you are._

_(You laughed at that, didn’t you? I know that later you’ll tell me that you didn’t, but I know you secretly love my terrible jokes.)_

_I’ll be back tonight around 8. I want to hear a full play-by-play so I can cheer at all the good parts. I’m building some new counters at the candy shop, so it’s too bad you hate chocolate, otherwise I’d bring you a huge bag of it home._

_(I know you didn’t laugh at that part, but I am as I picture the face you're making right now. I’ll make it up to you by bringing those caramel things you really like.)_

_Anyway, I just wanted you to know I’m rooting for you, like always. Love you more than anything._

_Yours,_

_Kristoff_

* * *

“Look, those giant icicles that you said looked like a snowman’s you-know-what are finally melting!”

Kristoff snorted. “Anna, you were the one who said that.”

“Oh, that’s right, I am the funny one, aren’t I?”

He rolled his eyes at that, but when she laughed and kissed his cheek she pulled away to see that he was blushing.

“So the snow on the mountain is probably getting close to melting, right?” she asked hopefully.

He nodded, something deep and serious in his expression, and she had to look away, feeling suddenly nervous. She laid her head back down against his chest, focusing instead on the steady sound of his heartbeat. He resumed tracing absentminded little shapes on her back, his fingers warm through the fabric of her nightgown.

“So,” she said, her voice shy. “I was thinking green at first.”

“Green what?”

“Curtains. For our house, like you said. You told me I could pick which color.”

His hand froze, and she dared to look up at him again. His eyes were wide. “I-- I mean,” she said quickly, “if you haven’t changed your mind. About your happy ever after. Because I’d like it to be mine, too, if that’s okay. And, well-- green’s still your favorite color, isn’t it?”

She bit her lip; he still wasn’t responding. “Or, um, if you don’t--”

He kissed her then, so warmly she thought she might just melt away then and there right on the sofa. “Green,” he reassured her, moving to press tiny kisses all over her cheeks, “will be perfect.”

* * *

“It’s even better than I remembered!” she enthused, darting between the two trees that marked the entrance to the glade. _Their_ glade, as she liked to think of it, where they’d spent so many happy hours lounging by the banks of the sky-blue pond and kissing in the midst of a sea of primroses. The season’s first daffodils were just beginning to bloom, and she knelt to examine them, ecstatic at the first signs of spring after a long and terrible winter.

“You know, this is the first place I realized I was in love with you.”

She blushed furiously, her eyes still on the daffodils so he wouldn’t see. “When?”

“The first time I brought you here, when you jumped off the rock and said you did it because you knew I would be there to catch you. And then I realized that, well, I would. As long as you would let me.”

She dared to peek over her shoulder. To her surprise, Kristoff was kneeling, too.

“Kristoff?”

“So-- will you? Let me stick around and catch you, I mean. And, well, marry you, if that’s alright, too.”

He was holding a ring, a little gold one with a diamond that sparkled almost as bright as his eyes, but even if he hadn’t been, she would have said--

“Yes.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) hope this makes up for all the pain!
> 
> epilogue coming soon!


	23. epilogue

_two years later_

The summer that year had been exceptionally glorious. The village had become a hive of activity; more and more visitors flocked to it every year, charmed by the beauty of the mountain and the warmth of its people. And it certainly didn’t hurt that Arendelle’s princess-- and most in-demand diplomat-- held court there in a cottage on the hill for all who came to her seeking a solution.

The cottage was a sight to see, especially with wings added on to house its esteemed guests, but Anna herself hadn’t stayed there in years. She had grown more fond of it as she’d grown up and collected happy memories there, but her home was a ways down from the hill now, tucked away from the rest of the village, and currently half-hidden by a sea of sunflowers.

They were taller than ever this year, already nearly shoulder-high in early July, and at the moment Anna was examining them with a careful eye, deciding which blooms would be worthy of decorating the main table at the summer festival.

“Papa!” a little voice chirped, and she looked up from her work to see a tiny figure running towards her as fast as his chubby legs could carry him. He flung himself at her knees with a squeal.

“Bodie, my silly boy, you know I’m your mama,” she laughed, scooping him up and pressing a kiss into his mop of dark brown curls.

He shook his head. “Papa!” he insisted, pointing, and Anna’s face lit up.

She turned, still holding her son close, and sighted a broad-shouldered figure coming through the gate. Even from across the yard, she could see the wide smile blooming on his face. She ran to him as quickly as she could while holding her precious cargo and was met with a warm embrace as Kristoff wrapped his arms around both of them.

“Papa!” Bodie crowed once more, giggling as he was rewarded with a kiss on his forehead. “That tickles!”

  
“Your beard _is_ getting awfully long,” Anna teased affectionately, and Kristoff leaned down to sprinkle her face with kisses. 

“Is Mama as ticklish as you, Bo?” he asked as Anna laughed helplessly. The little boy squealed with delight and reached up to hug his father around the neck. Kristoff held him close, and it was Anna's turn to wrap them both in her arms, reveling in the feeling of her husband in her embrace once more, safe and sound.

Kristoff kissed her then, smiling against her mouth, and when he pulled away to rest his forehead against hers she whispered, “Welcome home.”

* * *

“How was the ice?”

“Cold,” Kristoff teased, and Anna elbowed him affectionately before handing him another dish to dry.

“Did everything go well, though?”

“Yeah, it was a good trip. Missed you two, though.”

Anna smiled up at him; he’d seen that smile a million times and would see it a billion more, but it never failed to warm him from the inside out. He’d missed that smile the last few days, had dreamed of it each night, and now he found himself leaning down to kiss both corners of her mouth. Anna responded in kind, flinging her soapy hands around his neck and pulling him close. 

“Missed you, too,” she said breathlessly, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

He pulled back, kissing her temple on the way. “Ready for those meetings tomorrow?”

She feigned a dramatic shudder. “Think they might be even icier than your...well, ice.”

“You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

She sighed and looked up at him with a resigned smile. “We’ll see. But let’s let tomorrow worry about itself. Right now, I think _somebody_ is about ready for bed.”

Anna nodded towards the floor, where a very sleepy toddler was yawning as he rolled a ball of yarn in front of the cat. Kristoff went to him, scooping him up off the floor. “C’mon, Bo, looks like it’s about bedtime.”

“Story, Papa,” Bodie mumbled sleepily, his tiny head nestled against Kristoff’s chest. He settled into the rocking chair, smiling as he watched Anna put on the kettle for tea. He knew she would join them before long; this was her favorite story, too. She always had loved her happy endings.

“Once upon a time,” he began, “there was a little boy playing by himself, and he looked up into the window, and to his surprise, he saw a little girl with red hair…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just like that....it's finished! For now, at least :)
> 
> I promise that there will be plenty of follow up fics about their wedding, how they adopted Bodie (whose full name is-- oh wait, let's save that for later ;) ), the time in between, probably some stuff from this fic that got cut, and some form of sequel that will get into some other questions I'm not even mentioning here ;)
> 
> Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading this fic! I never in a million years dreamed people would actually care enough to read and follow along with the story, and I definitely never expected to finish writing a fic this long, especially in under a month!
> 
> I really and truly treasured each and every comment from you guys. I smiled at every single one of them and reread them all over and over :) It means so much to me that you took the time out of your day to read the story and share your thoughts. I hope this story made you smile (at least at the parts when it wasn't super dramatic).
> 
> Lots of love!! <3


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